Within moments of U.S. Sen. Bernie Sanders' announcement he was running for president again in 2020, many stepped forward to pour cold water on his chances. He's too radical, say some. Democrats' leftward shift means he's no longer radical enough, say others. He's too ancient, says yet another group.

Not so fast. Early fundraising totals reveal a solid number of Sanders' 2016 supporters remain committed where it matters — the wallet. According to his campaign, Sanders raised about $5.9 million from 225,000 potential voters within 24 hours of his announcement and surpassed $6 million a few hours after that. That blew past the totals for Sens. Elizabeth Warren (almost $300,000 on her first day), Kamala Harris ($1.5 million in the first 24 hours) and Amy Klobuchar ($1 million in the first 48 hours).

All this shouldn't come as a surprise, yet it often seems to, at least in the Acela corridor. In a world where income inequality continues to soar, common sense says Sanders' populist message appeals to many. Millions of Americans support Sanders' agenda, or at least parts of it. Poll after poll after poll shows solid majorities of all ages say they want to see "Medicare-for-all," a $15-an-hour minimum wage and higher taxes on the wealthiest among us.

But there is something else, too. Sanders, at 77, has figured out a way to make his relatively advanced age work in his favor. In American society, we often brush off the elderly. But there remains a long-established trope, something I'll dub the "Golden Girls" appeal for the 1980s-1990s hit television show. These people are who they are, and they remain committed to their passions. They don't talk down to the young people, but neither do they scold, or blame them for their woes. At the same time, they don't sugarcoat their critiques. They don't pretend to share their taste in music, but they share something more important — they share their idealism and their belief that we don't need to settle for realism, or second best. They are, you might say, brass-tack dreamers.

Sanders, who, in an age of polished video, often turns up looking as if he forgot to brush his hair, makes zero effort to modulate his distinct New York honk despite decades of living in Vermont, and released a campaign commercial in 2016 featuring the sounds of Simon and Garfunkel, fits this profile perfectly. He tells a generation of Americans indebted by student loans that college tuition can once again be an inconsequential expense. It wouldn't take a "magic genie," as Klobuchar claimed Monday, just a society willing to support it.

And he doesn't just say he would like to see a $15 minimum wage. He all but shamed Amazon into raising its minimum hourly pay last year to $15 an hour, after he debuted legislation named in honor of Jeff Bezos, which would have required large companies to pay the government back if their employees still need government benefits to get by.

None of this is to say Sanders is home free. He's not. Older voters could balk at Sanders' uncompromising progressive policies. The larger and more progressive slate of candidates this year may carve up his support. Some remain angry about how his last presidential campaign handled allegations of sexual harassment by staffers. He struggled with many black voters in 2016. More than a few people remain angry at him for his challenge to Hillary Clinton.

But Sanders comes with formidable muscle. He has passionate supporters who remain committed, years of experience in grassroots organizing, and a political environment that has only become friendlier to his views since the last time he ran. And no candidate who can raise so much so quickly from so many small donors can be dismissed so cavalierly and quickly.

Helaine Olen is a columnist for Slate.