Voting Philadelphia
April 22, 2008, A Primary Day Travelogue
A startling racket rides up behind me as I stand with my coffee and my map at 13th and Walnut Streets, a sound like the amplified garble of a rock singer from the back row. Then it swooshes by, a white car with three twenty-somethings inside, the one in the backseat on a microphone with a bullhorn pointed out the window. Doppler effect in effect.
We will
We will
Barack you
We will
We will
BARACK YOU!
It was primary day in Philadelphia.
In a city made famous for brotherly love, but known for too long as a divided metropolis, an election provides a rare opportunity to walk up to strangers in any neighborhood and start asking personal questions. Neighbors reconnect after a long winter, hoopla is encouraged, young and old, black and white stand in the same lines, argue and joke, and ultimately push VOTE on the same machines across all four corners of the city.
My goal was to assemble a few representative voices from the crowd on a day when the nation was again keeping its eye on Philadelphia. The pundits were predicting a big day for Obama in the city, but the pundits are addicted to rounded numbers, to ten-second truth dispensing. I was out for some stories.
I had started my day early at the Palumbo Recreation Center in Bella Vista, weaving through the leafleteering brigade outside before handing my voter registration card to my neighbor. An older woman with thick glasses whom I see again every time I vote, she was seated next to two more of my neighbors, a retired postman known on the block as “Mr. Al” and his sister-in-law Josie. You may vote behind the curtain at Palumbo, but that’s the only anonymity you will get.
Vote duly recorded (I trust) I headed out for the day, my camera-toting brother at the wheel of a sporty red Philly Car Share ride.
First Stop, Ziehler Playground, Olney, 10:15 a.m.
Teenagers play lacrosse on a lush, green field as Nashanda Westbrooks lingers just inside the sign-cluttered chain link of the rec center. Trim duplexes with small yards form a protective buffer zone in every direction.
A man with thick arms is sitting back on two legs of a metal chair across from her, asking-telling me “You see any Hillary signs in these yards around here?” I hadn’t. “That’s right.” This was Obama country, Nashanda agrees.
What are the issues that the candidates need to address in Olney, a neighborhood in far north-central Philadelphia? Nashanda is pretty young, but she likes her neighborhood and has strong opinions about it. “It’s quiet, to me,” she says, “compared to North Philly.” She doesn’t see many problems with Olney, none she can point to right off. It was a lull in the middle of a busy day, and I slip away, the chair-leaner still leaning.
Second Stop, Pelbano Recreation Center, Rhawnhurst, 11:00
The boys of Derkas Auto Body are rallying against the squad from the 24th District on the softball field at Pelbano Recreation Center in northeast Philly. A sign on the fence thanks International Brotherhood of Electrical Workers President John Dougherty—who just happens to also be a candidate that day—for his generosity to the community. Hillary signs form a visual escort from the parking lot to the polling place entrance. A white-haired man in a sweatsuit and headphones on walks briskly past.
With her League of Women Voters voting guide in one hand, and her cane in the other, red-haired Rhawnhurst resident Ileen Green explains to me about her favorite candidate. “He’s for change . . . but, who isn’t?” Hillary, on the other hand, is very specific in what she will do as Ileen sees it, especially on health care. Taking 30 pills a day, insulin, and having to visit three doctors a week, health care is very understandably Ileen’s number one issue. She is not an old woman, but illness has made her cautious, and this clearly informs her politics.
“I’m afraid of McCain getting in,” she tells me, “I oppose this war.” In the end, though, Ileen thinks the party will unite behind the nominee. She doesn’t think Philadelphia issues have been addressed much in the primary race, and she would love to see a debate about them, particularly crime.
Ileen Green encourages me to hit the website for the League of Women Voters, then heads on through the crowd of voters, many much older than her, streaming in to vote.
Third Stop, Kendrick Recreation Center, Roxborough, Noon
“Mike Livingston is my man!”
Tom Obst has stationed himself right in the middle of the steps. He stands up to talk to me, occasionally stopping to shake hands or hug and kiss his friends coming out of what is, apparently, the de facto Republican door of the Kendrick Recreation Center in the old working class neighborhood of Roxborough, out in the northwest section of the city.
He makes a joke about Hillary and takes a scolding from a female friend passing by.
Livingston is challenging incumbent Chaka Fattah for the 2nd Congressional District seat, and Obst is talking him up, along with all the other candidates on the Republican slate.
With close-cropped beard and a bit quieter than his buddy, Jeff Jones stands a few steps down and slips in and out of the conversation. Both of them work for the Philadelphia Parking Authority, though Obst ribs his friend that he is a good guy while Jones is the bad guy. Jones writes tickets, apparently, while Obst works out at the airport. They are both in their late 30s-early 40s, and their allegiance to the GOP makes them minority voters here in Roxborough, though you couldn’t tell it from their enthusiasm.
“The Republicans helped me when I needed it and the Democrats didn’t, so I switched parties,” Obst tells me.
I leave it at that.
Both of these guys tell me they like their former councilman and now Mayor Michael Nutter, a reminder of Nutter’s popularity across racial and party lines, and the degree to which Philadelphia voters don’t easily fall into the simple caricatures that the national media (and the Governor) have created for white voters in the state.
Still, they like McCain for President.
“If Obama doesn’t win, a lot of Democrats will go for McCain,” says Obst. He and Jones are breaking it down for me. Health care won’t change no matter who is elected. Fuel prices and crime, these are the issues that Philadelphians care about. They want to see some money go for public transportation—a view that unites Republicans and Democrats in the city.
“Why kill your wallet when you can take the bus!” Jeff Jones has just coined a slogan that SEPTA would no-doubt pay him for handsomely.
Can Livingston beat Chaka Fattah? Obst doesn’t miss a beat.
“Do you want to go to Atlantic City and make a bet?”
I decide to head to the south entrance to find some Democrats to talk to, and leave Roxborough’s Republican gatekeepers on the steps.
“Let’s go Republicans!” Obst yells, as I walk through the building and out the other side to speak with Pete Johnston, a center city attorney handing out Obama information, wearing an Obama cap, an Obama button, and able to talk “deep Obama” with me for 15 minutes.
Jobs, social security, and crime top Johnston’s list of key issues. “I like his vision, energy, and excitement . . . he can unite the country.” How can Obama help Philly, though? If the national economy is stronger, perhaps if the war ends, then that frees up more money for domestic issues, for urban issues. This is core to Obama’s current stump speech—connecting the vast expense of the war to the yawning needs of domestic programs like education and housing.
Johnston was at the massive rally Obama held last week on Independence Mall. He was part of that history, a landmark political moment in an American political landmark.
“A lot depends on tonight,” he tells me as I turn to go, “it could be over soon.”
Fourth Stop, South Philadelphia, 2:00 p.m.
Kurt Fredericksdorf, a brother in the International Brotherhood of Electrical Workers Local #98 is helping an elderly couple across the street. With one hand he is stopping traffic, with the other he is pointing the couple towards the polling place. Kurt is real south Philly, not some bragging, cheese-steak-eating cliché, but the real deal, a blue-collar son of the neighborhood who loves it here, and is making his stand. He has 1500 fellow IBEW members living in the neighborhood and the strength of these numbers ripples through him.
The son of a policeman, and with 3 brothers on the police force, the city’s unions are in his blood. He’s out for Johnny Doc today, standing in front of an “Italians for Dougherty” sign, an “Irish for Dougherty” sign, and wearing his own Dougherty t-shirt. Johnny Doc has the biggest operation in town today, you would think he’s running for President with the street corner visibility he has. A minivan festooned with Jonny Doc signs pulls up and drops off stacks of t-shirts. A passing woman takes one, it’s unclear if she’s going to vote or just needs a nightshirt. Kurt is pretty sure that a lot of Republicans are switching parties to vote for Dougherty today.
Kurt wants to see some help for Philadelphia from the national level politicians, on fuel prices, on guns, on economic development. He wants the war to come to an end. He doesn’t understand the people he knows who voted for Bush and yet still complain about the state of the nation.
Mostly, though, he’s about excitement, not political punditry. “Philly’s awesome,” he tells me. Kurt is 30, he is part of the new generation of Philadelphians choosing to stay rather than decamp for the suburbs. “We have Penn, we have the airport, we have the waterfront. This is a slice of heaven!” Two blocks from the legendary Melrose Diner, Kurt Fredericksdorf is making the best case for Philly I’ve heard in a long time.
Fifth Stop, Kingsessing Recreation Center, 2:45 p.m.
“You can be President too!”
The polling place is pretty empty, but the playground is jammed full of kids just out from school. Dozens of games of pick-up basketball are underway.
“Obama, he can do it!” From a minivan parked just outside the playground gate comes the booming voice of yet another roaming Obama-mobile. Inside, Harrison Ray, Valerie Hayden, and Dianna Matthews (on the mic) idle for a few minutes and tell me about their candidate.
“He wants to help with the genocide in Darfur. He can help on health care, on the economy.” In Philly they think Obama will help get the guns off the street. And, maybe, they hope, he will promote economic and education policies that will help to rebuild the African-American families of the city.
They like Hillary, but they like Barack better. They don’t mind that Mayor Nutter supports Hillary, but they think Governor Rendell’s comments about racism in Pennsylvania crossed the line. They wish Nutter had called him on it.
And just as we are really getting into it, as I’m hearing about how unity between the races is possible, is probable with Obama at the reins, they have to go—it’s time to pick up some old folks and get them to the polls. A man is crossing the street in front of the van.
“You, there, in the orange jacket, did you vote? Don’t forget to vote!”
Sixth Stop, University of Pennsylvania, 4:00 p.m.
Victoria Perez, economics and political-science double-major plans to go into health care policy research when she graduates. She volunteers in South Philly with Latino immigrants.
If the demographers are correct—and on this they have been right this time around—Ms. Perez represents in her gender, her ethnicity, and her top voting issue that she is a natural for Hillary. And though it takes us a few minutes of conversation before she confirms this for me, I have found the ultimate Hillary Clinton voter.
She saw Chelsea Clinton when she came to campus. Apparently it was sparsely attended. Victoria is not the type of person that you would imagine waving a sign or screaming her head off, for Hillary, or for Obama. She defies the stereotypes that the media have created for college voters—she’s focused on issues. She didn’t like it that the Penn Democrats endorsed Obama. She tells me that she and her roommates support Clinton, but “still the arguments can get pretty heated at times.”
Victoria is from Connecticut, but she registered and voted in Pennsylvania in 2004, in the hopes that she could do her part to swing the state to the Democrats. I note this strategic thinking, but then she finishes with a surprise: Victoria Perez might support McCain over Obama if Clinton doesn’t get the nomination.
Final Stop, Dark Horse Tavern, 8:00 p.m.
“Can we turn the tv station to politics?”
The bartender views me with one-part incomprehension and one part disgust. Maybe upstairs, he ventures, but not in his little nook of the bar. The Flyers game is on.
After some fancy arguing upstairs, we manage to get a room with a big-screen tuned to MSNBC. Munching and drinking, the returns roll in, and it’s no great surprise.
Obama has crushed Clinton in Philly, but not done very well in most other parts of the state. Overall, he has closed a 25 point deficit to 9, a loss he will note from Indiana, where he is speaking tonight.
Hillary is still in PA, in fact she’s at a hotel on Broad Street, living it up. Terry McAuliffe tells the MSNBC reporter that Obama “can’t win the big states,” and for this reason the superdelegates will soon come home to Hillary.
Someone will be interviewing voters in Indianapolis next week, and in Charlotte, North Carolina, and in Louisville, Bozeman, and San Juan. Cities–the microcosms of states, of the nation–will tell the tales of the hopes, frustrations, and realities of this election year. In cities the nation was founded, its aspirations voiced, its fractures exposed. In cities the issues of crime, education, war, and economy stand out in darkest contrast from the backdrop of a too-gray and apathetic suburbia, of a muted rural America. Cities have been, and remain, the political conscience of the land.
One of the servers pokes his head in every few minutes to monitor the results, but never says anything. Did he vote? Where does he live? I get ready to interrogate him, but he slips away.
Two guys walk in to throw darts. They are baffled that we aren’t watching the game. They leave, muttering.
A man with his wife sticks his head in.
“What’s the score?”
“We’re watching politics.”
“POLITICS! Meh.” And with a wave of his hand he brings my election day odyssey to a close. Not everyone gets into the drama and the passion of primary day, especially when the Flyers are playing well. I long for the bullhorn, I want to tell the guy . . .
“You could be President too!”
