UNIONTOWN -- Trish Heckman, a 49-year-old restaurant cook and disappointed Hillary Rodham Clinton supporter, watched last week as the country's newest political star made her explosive debut.

Ms. Heckman followed the news when Arizona Sen. John McCain introduced Alaska Gov. Sarah Palin as his vice-presidential running mate, paid attention to the raging debate over her qualifications, even tuned in to watch her dramatic speech at the Republican convention.

But when it came down to the issues Ms. Heckman really cares about -- sending a daughter to college on $10.50 an hour -- her desire to see a woman reach the White House took a back seat to her depleted savings account.

"I wanted Hillary to win so bad, but I saw Sarah, and it just didn't work for me," said Ms. Heckman, taking a break in the empty courtyard of J. Paul's restaurant in a downtown struggling to revive. "I have no retirement. Obama understands it's the economy. He knows how we live."

Ms. Heckman, like many others in this former coal-mining town at the western foot of the Appalachians, is the type of voter that both presidential campaigns will target in the two months leading up to Election Day. Polls show that working-class women have emerged as one of the most critical categories of swing voters at a time when Mr. McCain and Illinois Sen. Barack Obama, the Democratic nominee, have galvanized their party bases but still need more votes to win.

Ms. Palin, a little-known 44-year-old mother of five, burst onto the scene just days ago, presenting herself as the woman to finally shatter the glass ceiling cracked by the historic candidacy of Mrs. Clinton, the Democratic New York senator.

But now, after a chaotic introductory week that sparked national debates on Mr. McCain's judgment, Ms. Palin's experience and even her teenage daughter's pregnancy, some initial signs in this town are not entirely positive for the reinvigorated Republican ticket.

Interviews with about two dozen Uniontown women after Ms. Palin's convention speech found that these voters were not swayed by the fiery, dramatic speeches or compelling personal biographies that marked both the Republican and Democratic conventions. Instead, they are thinking about the price of milk -- nearly $5 a gallon -- or the health-care coverage that many working families cannot afford.

Even if they admire Ms. Palin's attempt to juggle political ambition, an infant son with Down syndrome and a pregnant unwed daughter, these women say that maternal grit is not enough to win their votes.

Waitress Judy Artice, "Miss Judy" as she is known at Glisan's roadside diner, declared Ms. Palin "the perfect candidate" after watching her Wednesday speech. That said, Ms. Artice had decided earlier that her vote would go to the first candidate who mentioned gasoline prices.

"And I'll be danged, it was Obama," Ms. Artice, 46, said between servings of liver and onions during the lunch rush.

Both campaigns have signaled that these blue-collar communities could be where the election will be decided, a conclusion made even more likely when the nation's unemployment rate hit a five-year high for August. Mr. McCain dominates among white men, and Mr. Obama, who would be the first black president, is all but sweeping the black vote, most polls show. That leaves white women, the so-called Hillary base, as one of the most persuadable voting groups left on the table.

Republican strategists hope Ms. Palin's middle-class roots, union-member husband and love of hunting will help her connect with rural and small-town voters in battleground states such as Ohio, Michigan and Pennsylvania.

This is, after all, a place where schools close on opening day of deer hunting season, abortion makes people uncomfortable and racial bias still beats under the radar.

Uniontown was very much in the McCain campaign's sights throughout a convention that showcased Ms. Palin's small-town roots while portraying Mr. Obama, who lives in Chicago, as a big-city elitist.

Republican delegates and activists in the convention hall delighted in Ms. Palin's snarky jabs at the senator from Illinois, such as when she poked fun at the columned backdrop for Mr. Obama's stadium acceptance speech or mocked him as intent on "turning back the waters and healing the planet."

For many Uniontown women watching closely, though, that portion of Ms. Palin's speech was all they needed to hear.

When Ms. Palin belittled Mr. Obama's history as a community organizer on Chicago's south side -- suggesting he was a do-little activist while she, as the former mayor of tiny Wasilla, Alaska, had "actual responsibilities" -- Sandy Ryan, 59, changed the channel.

"That's enough of that. I switched over to 'Househunters,' " she said with some disgust over dessert with a group of women from the senior housing complex she manages.

One of a dwindling number of coveted undecideds, Ms. Ryan gets a first-hand view of retirees forced to choose between food and medication. She is not convinced Mr. Obama has the experience to be president, but Ms. Palin only reinforced her concern that Mr. McCain means four more years of divisiveness and gridlock.

Patty Tobal, a 63-year-old retired nurse and lifelong feminist, shut off the set and went to bed. The promise of a woman on the ticket had piqued her curiosity, but she found Ms. Palin's sarcasm offensive and her priorities out of touch.

"We don't need any more fighting in Washington," Ms. Tobal said while having her hair done at a little shop on Route 40. "Women are not for women just because they are women. We are intelligent enough to make a conscious decision."

If these women are any indication, the threat to Mr. Obama's camp is not that they will side with Mr. McCain, but that they will stay home, as Ms. Hackman, the restaurant chef and single mother of two, says many people on her block plan to do.

But those disenchanted voters could be balanced by newly inspired ones, such as Jennifer Glisan, 23, an emergency medical technician who saves lives every week but cannot afford health insurance. Mrs. Clinton's gender was enough to awaken her political interest, but Ms. Palin's failed to hold it.

"I think Palin is a fake. She will run the economy into the ground," Ms. Glisan said after catching glimpses of her speech between emergency calls. "I have to kill myself every day at work to earn enough to pay for gas to get there. I think Obama is sincere. I think we need a change."