The Alleyways of Democracy

I woke up in the dark at six A.M. on a Thursday morning. Schools across the Connecticut Shoreline were closed, and our electricity from Sandy remained extinguished. I ambled out of bed and to the bathroom to brush my teeth and shave. It was 35 degrees outside.

My mom and I began our journey to Pennsylvania. The New Jersey Turnpike was a disaster, packed with vehicles from throughout the East Coast. After a few ill advised turns and much traffic, we arrived at the Pennsylvania office at noon, concluding a torturous five and one half hour trip.

I had planned this excursion two months in advance. The election was to come down, as it often does, to a handful of swing states, or battleground states. In the spirit of full disclosure, I passionately believed Barack Obama deserved to be elected over Mitt Romney, and helping this cause in Connecticut would be fruitless as we nutmeggers vote almost exclusively Democratic in presidential elections. I signed up to become a volunteer for Barack Obama's Vote Corps online, and was stationed in West Chester, Pennsylvania.

West Chester County leaned Republican in most elections, while Pennsylvania as a whole leaned Democrat. In 2010 the GOP won the midterm elections handily both in West Chester and across the nation. The Obama campaign led by David Axelrod and Jim Messina studied the modern electoral map following this election, scrutinizing each county in every battleground state. They strategically spent money on campaign offices in specific counties in Pennsylvania, Ohio, Nevada, Colorado, North Carolina, New Hampshire, Wisconsin, Iowa, Florida, and Virginia. These offices, like the one I worked in, were heralded after the election for their sophisticated "ground game", designed for base voter turnout.

Keith Miller, the Field Director for the OFAPA (Organizing for America, Pennsylvania) office met us outside upon arrival. I said a hurried goodbye to my mother, who was having second guesses after worrying she was dropping me off with a few hundred dollars in an office in Pennsylvania where I knew no one, had no clear cut transportation, and had only a muddied view of where I would be staying at night. This was no matter of importance I told her, when democracy was at stake.

I was immediately set to work upon entering the office. A tall, bearded, Jewish man who majored in history and was a longtime fellow of OFAPA West Chester by the name of Josh gave me directions on how to make calls. He had a bass-heavy voice and if you listened to him close enough, he threw in dry wisecracks with nearly every remark. He was tired. He seemed spent. He peppered his instructions with expletives and impressions of disgruntled callers at the other end of the line, and I soon understood the camaraderie of the office, especially between the fellows. 

The fellows are the employees in the office. Some fellows, like Annie, Clara, and I, do not get paid, as we are strictly volunteers who work long hours. Other fellows, like the field directors, Keith and Dan, and the field director at West Chester University, Erica, have been at the office since the summer working for a paycheck in order to get the President reelected. 

I was calling for volunteer recruitment the first day, trying to find people who would spend time making calls for voter turnout that weekend or those who would go door to door canvassing. With the weekend came "GOTV", which was the Get Out the Vote campaign, the event the fellows had been preparing for since August. The main objective of the operation was to increase voter turnout amongst the liberal base, contradictory to the commonly held belief that missions like these were meant to sway undecided voters. 

The ordeal that was the phone bank reminded me of a movie montage. I called hundreds of numbers only to find no one at the other line and to hang up in disappointment. Someone did eventually pick up, but I was so accustomed to the answering machine that I was caught off guard. Thankfully, this first person was friendly and a strong Obama supporter (though she had no time to volunteer), so I did not have to deal with a rude caller on my first day.  

Keith helped set me up a "Vote Builder" account so that I could enter data from calls and canvassing when I was not making calls, or canvassing, or sorting stickers, or decorating the office, or making packets, or eating, or sleeping. Entering data was another mundane task, but one that had to be done and had been done since the summer. Data entry allowed for the Field Directors to know who we should no longer contact, and who we need to call based on past experience. Calls and visits to homes were focused mostly on registered democrats, but there was more than a handful of republicans I spoke to, many who planned to vote for Obama, and a couple who were even able to come to the office and volunteer. Apparently, in West Chester County there were a lot of "RINOS", or, Republicans in name only. RINOS are a dying breed, or as some may call them, moderates. 

The walls of the office were draped with signs: "African Americans for Obama, Forward., Yes We Can, Jewish Americans for Obama, Latinos for Obama, LGBT for Obama, Women for Obama, Asian Americans for Obama, Students for Obama" and a few cartoons and articles attacking Mitt Romney and his running mate Paul Ryan. One sign stated simply: "Romney-Ryan economics, It didn't work then, it won't work now."  There were also a couple 10X10 "Pennsylvania for Obama" banners. I thought these signs were ploys to appeal to certain demographics, but I found out they were originally paid for by outside groups created by independent Obama supporters like "LGBT for Obama". These factions were previously unaffiliated with Obama until they came to his campaign's attention. Only after this did they receive aid from the campaign. Obama's appeal to this wide range of voting blocs is what many believe drove his election victory. He won only 39% of the white vote, yet he won 93% of the black vote, 71% of the Latino vote, 55% of females voted for him, and he took 73% of the Asian vote.

The part of the office I was most often in, the phone banking room, was a small, chaotic place with a mini fridge, a fan, four old desktop computers, two long tables with nine phones on each, a table in the back with food and drinks, a couch, and a stack of call tally sheets to give to the volunteer callers. I was struck when I first entered the office bathroom, for there was a toothbrush, toothpaste, shaving cream, a razor, and deodorant. I was later told the Field Directors and a couple of fellows often slept over the office. Keith took time to warn me against working on campaigns during a drive to his house, due to the long and irregular hours. 

West Chester is a microcosm of the United States, reflecting both the division between political parties and the modern American melting pot. There are wealthy suburbs and developments, as well as large and expensive homes which dot hillsides and are secluded from the rest of West Chester. Many of these homes congregate near golf courses. These areas were both strong Romney, though the developments had some Obama supporters. 

Keith's parents lived in an upscale area like this, and he divulged to me that their liberal leanings must remain clandestine for fear of "preferential" treatment by the police, or even home invasions. There was a degree of sincerity in his claims. 

West Chester also contained middle class suburbs and apartments. The downtown apartments were expensive, but the middle class areas in the "Borough" were less so and housed mostly industrial workers. There were factories in this area and many men in overalls chatting and smoking cigarettes. These places leaned towards Obama. The University was full of Obama supporters, and an entire faction of the West Chester office was dispatched there to make sure thousands of students were able to vote. 

Parts of the Borough were mostly made up of minorities and low income housing. These places favored Obama, and the challenge for the office I worked in was to get most of those in the Borough, including many minorities, to go out on November 6th and vote. In fact, the West Chester office volunteers were enlisted for an all out effort to assist the people at a makeshift office in Coatesville, a poor area of projects twenty five minutes away. Canvassers from West Chester, including me, stormed homes with flyers and information and questions of support. After the successful invasion, a top fellow in the West Chester office could be heard saying on her phone: "We had a problem in one of our heaviest African-American districts today but our entire staff went down there and got the vote out. I couldn't have walked into a better situation. These guys have worked they asses off, man. I'm tired." 

The first night I was in Pennsylvania I ate at a Chipotle near the office with Nate, Clara, and Josh. Nate was a white 22 year old. He was a laid back college student and was attending McGill University in Canada. He mostly worked the local West Chester University, finding volunteers there and making sure the students voted. Nate had been working with the campaign for awhile. 

Clara was a 21 year old white woman. She was from Texas, a Republican stronghold, and wanted to make a difference for President Obama, keeping in mind there was nothing she could do to help him in her home state. She signed up for the Vote Corps and chose to go to Pennsylvania, where she had previously attended Carnegie Mellon for a year. She was a self proclaimed feminist and someone who liked to talk, and I worked closely with her over the next week. Her and Nate seemed to have taken a shining to one another. Infatuation at first sight of another liberal.

Back at the campaign office we ate and continued to make calls and enter data. Keith finally departed the office at 12:30 that night. He provided me with shelter for the first three nights of my trip at his parents house, where he was also taking refuge. Keith was a small, wiry man, anywhere from 24-26 years old. He had attended Davidson College and transferred later so he could continue to play soccer. He was polite and professional in the office with the volunteers, but with the fellows, especially outside of the office, he was different than I had expected. The fellows raved about how wild he was after hours, and also about his genuine compassion for all the people with whom he worked. Keith was pleasantly crass and jaded from the campaign, and maintained a distinguishing sense of humor. He worked tirelessly. He spoke with freedom and conviction about the political situation in West Chester, where he had lived his entire life. The three Field Directors Keith, Dan, and Erica were all homosexual, and conservatives in the area liked to joke about the office: "You come in high, and you go out gay." Keith relayed that slogan to me with amusement.

The people I worked with and met during the trip were the reason why the experience was so impactful. The majority of my acquaintances were like minded in their push for President Obama and their personal political beliefs, but there was an engaging story behind each person. Most importantly, I came to realize there was beauty in being around people united under a common cause much larger than themselves. Politicians should understand the culture of a campaign office and the people involved with it in this respect. Part of my penchant for the President is what I believe to be his honest appreciation of the people who work for him in offices like OFAPA, as evidenced by his tearful address of a field office in Ohio following his election. This is not to say other politicians are not as genuine, although most are not.

I had contact with innumerable people, coworkers, volunteers, and citizens alike, who gave meaning to a memory that remains with me. A soft spoken woman named Sandra warmed to me quickly. She was a thirty three year old white woman who was proud of her cultural background. She had a hint of an accent, a vocal inflection that can only be described as well-mannered. She had spent extensive time in Chile and the Czech Republic, and told me she saw many differing attitudes towards the U.S. during her time in other countries. She relayed to me that many people were angry at how the U.S. tends to play "international police." She was making calls because she believed Obama would be a better foreign policy candidate, even citing a BBC poll of 21 developed countries in which 20 favored Obama over Romney. 

A white man, at least 45, with glasses, a Phillies shirt, a vest, and a dusting of facial hair was confused about the call process and continued to question the methodology. Josh was finally able to help him wrap his head around it after a royal fuss. He was back the next night.

I spoke with an 83 year old registered Democratic woman who told me she would be voting for Romney. I politely tried to talk her out of it, giving in to some improbable belief that I could get her to come around to my side. We ended up having an insightful chat. She told me 62 years ago, when she was 21, she was a registered Republican. Ten years later a friend of hers ran for Democratic office, and being a reliable companion, she volunteered for her, and consequentially, for various Democratic campaigns for the next 50 years. This was the first time she had neither volunteered nor voted for a democrat since she was thirty years old. She felt Obama had his chance, but now it was someone else's turn. We ended the conversation with a laugh, as I told her even though she's not voting for my guy, I hoped she'd be able to get to the polls, and we would supply her with transportation if necessary.

I spoke with one registered Democrat on the phone who had to pause our conversation to take a call on his landline. I heard in the background: "This is a recorded message from the Republican National Committee -" he immediately hung up. When he picked up his cellphone he said to me: "Just like those Republicans to leave a recorded message while the Democrats volunteer." He came and worked at the office that weekend. 

I canvassed with a Jane Austen para-novelist and her baby. She was the wife of one of the canvassing directors at the office, John. She had been to Italy, Paris, Puerto Rico, Atlanta, New Orleans, the Netherlands, and Ireland, among other areas. She was a Delaware resident and she came with her husband to Pennsylvania, where her parents live, for election season. She was talkative and peppy, cutting in so much on my responses that her conversation was more with herself than it was with me. She was vehemently against an election bought by large-scale corporations, and she of course detested Citizens United. She was proud of being a writer and doing what she loved despite making no money, and she liked to say words like theoretical. She fed her two year old daughter biscotti and quiche, and told me she would only bear another child if Obama won the election.

Karen was a black woman around the age of fifty who I soon grew fond of. She told me she was not interested in politics until she witnessed Obama's famous 2004 Democratic National Convention address. She had not voted before that day. She followed Obama after the event, and cried with joy the day he was elected. Karen was a fellow at the office, who bonded with me over classic R&B. One late night in the phone bank room as I was sorting stickers and loading cell phones with minutes beside Clara, I decided it was a fine time to play Marvin Gaye. Karen also happened to be in the room, organizing canvassing packets for the next day. She instinctively whipped around at the sound of "Ain't No Mountain High Enough", and shook her head with nostalgia as I unintentionally attempted to ruin the song by singing along. When the tune finished, she talked with me wistfully about Tammi Terrelle and Marvin Gaye's complex relationship. She slipped into an emotional state as she told me: "She was younger than him, but he just felt comfortable around her. I don't think it was a sexual thing, I think he was protective of her, like a father or a brother. I remember watching that video for the first time." She trailed off. Karen is also the mother of Kaelyn, a junior at American University who came for the last two days leading up to and during the election.

One of the fellows in the office was also a Connecticut native. Annie Rosenthal was a 22 year old, white, liberal roamer from Middletown. She had been in Pennsylvania for a few months, and had just taken a non-profit environmental policy job in D.C. Annie became my mode of transportation to most places, and I learned a lot about her in the car rides. She was sharp and sarcastic, and attuned to the relationships and attitudes in the office.

My place of lodging for the last three days of the trip was a canvass director's downtown apartment. Susanna was a 42 year old white woman who lived with her 15 year old son and her 22 year old niece. She was a public defender, and was familiar with the area we were working in. She, like all the fellows, had worked fervently for months, and this weekend was the weekend. Dedicated and intense, she was also disorganized and disheveled, writing my name on her hand to remember to bring me back to her house Sunday night, and habitually smoking two cigarettes after each major event. She was cool. I watched The Walking Dead with her family the fourth night of my stay; and she was fond of saying it was okay to swear incessantly until election day.

The grand GOTV weekend began with a speech from Vice President Joe Biden's wife, Dr. Jill Biden. There was a considerable amount of preparation to be done for her event. A secret service agent with a smart suit and gelled hair scouted the area for two days leading up to Saturday morning. Jill Biden's aide was also there to make sure all went well. She was a small, nervous blonde woman who was both nice and demanding. I had to take down and put up many signs, including a "Forward." sign. I asked why. Biden's aide told me it was because the new slogan was, "Forward!" The lack of excitement around the campaign was a concern for many democrats, with prominent pundits and even Jon Stewart exposing the discrepancy between the idealistic "Hope and Change" of 2008, and the sober "Forward." of 2012. 

The office that usually housed twenty five people became a rally of 160 Saturday morning. There was a podium set up outside the entrance to the phone bank, and there was a camera crew along with about eighty people inside of the phone bank. One of the field directors, Dan, gave a quick introduction, followed by Ashley Biden, daughter of Joe and Jill. Ashley detailed her mother's career and achievements before the speech. When Dr. Biden stepped to the podium, I was made fully aware of the energy famously exuded by the Bidens. Dr. Biden excitedly ran through the usual Obama stump speech: "The President killed Bin Laden, he saved the auto industry, he created 5.4 million private sector jobs," the like. She delighted the crowd when she put her own spin on it, including appeals to veterans and women. She ended her speech with a call for women to vote democratic, "for we all value control over our own healthcare decisions." Philadelphia Mayor Michael Nutter concluded the event with a spirited and aggressive speech, telling the room: "Romney thinks he can come down her on this last weekend and spend a bunch of money. But we have a chance to tell Romney: You can't buy Pennsylvania!" He was referring to Romney's last minute push for Pennsylvania, hoping for an electoral upset in the state.

While everyone attempted to file out who was not already volunteering for the day, Keith, Dan, and the other fellows corralled most of the spectators and prevailed upon them to work for a few hours. A group of student Democrats from Albany College in New York came down for the weekend, who preferred staying in the phone banking room to much else, while only occasionally picking up a phone. The day, and the next four until election day, were fatiguing and frantic, with volunteers rushing in and out, new assignments forcing current ones to go unfinished, and with the mess and the beauty of the political process on full display.

An unfortunate symptom of Obama's 800 campaign offices, as well as Romney's 300, is the warlike atmosphere. Each volunteer that works at either office is secluded in a bunker, or bubble, of like-minded political opinions. The field director comes out of his tent to visit his volunteers now and then, offering an inspiring word to keep up soldierly morale, and then returns to his post to strategize with his top advisors. This creates an us vs. them mentality, brings polarization to its most blindingly obvious light, and encourages the discourse level of a sporting event that reaches a fever pitch on election night. This is the sickness that is election season. To tell the unfortunate truth, I loved it. 

I phone banked for most of Saturday, while canvassing, calling, and entering data Sunday, Monday, and Tuesday. The phone banking room was now manned by Rick, an amicable and awkward graduate of American University. After a day he came to be known (due to my constant efforts) as Slick Rick. He was also working to get a local congressman with the last name "Trivedi" elected. Unlike phone bank director, this was a paid job. His candidate lost, as most Democratic congressional candidates do in West Chester county. When Annie or Rick were busy, I directed the volunteer callers. 

The phone bank room was in disarray and filled to capacity from nine in the morning to nine at night each day during the GOTV campaign. The cast of characters was vast and amusing. Two eight year old girls came in at separate times with their mothers. They read the call script verbatim, saying "Personally, today I'm here because the president ended the war in Iraq." They were confident, not to mention adorable.

I heard two women talking about their husbands, and how they recently converted them from conservative to liberal. "He doesn't even watch Fox anymore! I catch him watching MSNBC all the time."

"Does he stay up for Rachel?"

"Yes! Rachel's his new favorite!"

A short stocky Filipino college girl, Victoria, was proper, pushy, and effective on the phone. She came in every night around five, didn't say a word to anyone, made calls for three hours, and left. 

At this point, the people on our call lists had been contacted at least twice; for every 25 people who demanded that the volunteer stop calling, only one person warmly received our advances. When people told us they could not volunteer because they were poll watching, Keith became irate: "Poll watching doesn't win elections. Knocking on doors wins elections."

My diet for the week consisted of all the "hoagies" (Pennsylvanian grinders) money could buy, and whatever was on the table that people brought in. Sometimes pasta, or pulled pork, other times doughnuts, or cookies. There was little time to eat though, and starting my fourth morning, I was on the move and canvassing regularly. 

I went door to door with a middle aged black woman, Phyllis, who was a nurse with a husband and a daughter. She had squeezed in a few volunteer hours at the end of a busy work day. We canvassed in a development, and with the yards so far apart, she drove house to house while I jumped out and spoke to residents about voting to make sure they would be able to get to the polls and they knew all the necessary information. Phyllis had her own opinions about the election: "Romney doesn't know what it's like to be poor. He lives in a fantasy land where those who don't have jobs are lazy or dependent - that's just not true!" She became quite animated at this point, and I solemnly nodded while she told me why she would vote for the sitting President. Her reasons mostly consisted of personality and background rather than policy. 

I canvassed a with Clara in low income neighborhoods. Most of the people we spoke with were strong Obama supporters, and I had a pleasant chat with a man who was trying to launch a rap career. He showed me a few of his videos. I did the talking while Clara took care of the paperwork, such as giving people stickers and keeping track of the statistics: How many people were not home? How many people were strong Obama supporters? How many were undecided?

The last two days were the height of GOTV. I trekked across West Chester in every conceivable area with every possible partner. I canvassed with Susanna and her son who efficiently passed out flyers in Coatesville. I went to hundreds of apartments with Annie and Clara, doing the same. I spent the majority of the last two days with Kaelyn, Austin, and Rachel. Kaelyn drove us to our targets over the last day and a half. She loved holiday music and had a strong urge to tear down every Republican sign, whether local or federal, that she witnessed. Austin is a goofy white senior in high school with a distinct running style which he displayed while running from house to house. 

Rachel was with us on the last day. She was a fearless, ambitious, and lovely senior in high school who wants to be president in 2040. She had spent her summer working as an intern in the office. She went to a high school in West Chester and was well acquainted with all the fellows, but had stopped working at the office so she could focus on school. Five minutes after we met she playfully criticized all I did. 

Monday and Tuesday the four of us, in different combinations, argued about music and thumbed our noses at Romney/Ryan signs. Two times we saw a man driving around with a dog crate strapped to the top of his car with a sign across the back of the crate saying "Beware of dog." We talked face to face with hundreds of people all the way up to the 7:00 voting deadline Tuesday night.

My proudest moment for the week was an encounter I had with a man behind the apartment door I knocked on in the afternoon of election day. We had a long conversation with topics ranging from the national debt and healthcare to liberalism, conservatism, and Keynesian economics. He told me he was not going to vote. Such an appalling sentiment is not completely his fault, for, politics is not currently a popular occupation. I tried to appeal to his sense of civic duty. He did not budge. He agreed taxes should be raised to help reduce the debt, but believed Obama would spend too much. He believed, correctly, Romney would not raise taxes, but he also believed he would cut spending. He saw the two candidates as synonymous. I tried to tell him Romney would double the defense budget and add to the debt while Obama would make the military smaller and save money. He didn't buy it. Twenty six minutes in, with my foolishly idealistic hope that I could convince this man to vote rapidly fading, I made a final attempt at persuasion. "If you won't vote for either candidate, think about how Romney would leave thirty one million people without healthcare, as he vows to do by repealing Obamacare." 

"So if I don't vote for Obama, I'm killing thirty one million people."

"Basically." 

He got in his car and voted for Obama. 

Rachel, Kaelyn, Austin and I went on a last mission Tuesday night. We scoured West Chester University to make sure all the students had voted. The deadline passed, and those who had voted for Obama were congratulated by us, while those who voted for Romney were berated. Rachel became visibly angry at Romney supporters, but for my part, I wanted to know why a citizen would have voted for the former governor of Massachusetts. Inevitably, the people I questioned took it as heckling, and my question went unanswered. 

We returned to the office anxious to see results. Kaelyn could not contain herself, declaring Obama or Romney winners in certain states when only one percent of the precincts had reported. A nervous cheer erupted from the office when Obama took Pennsylvania. The legal drinkers began to uncork wine and champagne and crack open beers, and the tension leading up to the result was short lived. About half an hour later, Obama was declared the winner of Ohio, and therefore, had attained the necessary amount of electoral votes to become a two-term president. 

The entire office was swept into emotional hilarity. Hugs and tears flowed liberally, with shouts and shrieks of triumphant expletives and joyful shouts echoing through the unassuming building. Susanna and Karen both came to me and while hugging me spoke through tears: "You have a future. You have a future." Rachel jumped on me and I lost my balance and almost fell. Annie lay silently smiling on the floor. Clara was with Nate. Slick Rick and I chest bumped. The familiar call originated anonymously and was taken up by the entire staff: "Fired up!"

"Ready to go!"

We went to Jazmine, a restaurant, to celebrate. I talked to Rachel for a while over Ginger Ales. We had been monitoring the election for a while and were more than content to talk policy, or gloat on the victory, or chat about some article we read in The New Yorker  that reaffirmed our beliefs. There was no time for that at the moment though. This was about the thing we no longer had to compete for, a personal, but impersonal victory, a victory for all the people I had met on the trip and would never see again. There was no debate on what the next move would be; how the fiscal cliff negotiations would be handled; how the polarization would be fixed. There was only the understanding that those who had toiled in the unglamorous alleyways of democracy, some for six months, some for a week, had been vindicated. All that needed recognition was the understanding that we were in a moment, one of those points in your personal history where you would eternally remember where you were when it happened.

President Obama emerged from backstage to address his constituency, invigorated and inspired as his oratory tends to be. He harkened back to the days of not being "a collection of red states and blue states". The foolish idealism had returned, and it didn't matter that it would soon slip away. The President spoke directly to his volunteers: "To the best campaign team and volunteers in the history of politics. The best. The best ever." This elicited an uproar from the restaurant.  

Despite the civil rights lawyers at the polls, the videos of voting machines changing votes, and the long lines, Democracy was once again justified. In the words of the president, "That's why we do this. That's what politics can be. That's why elections matter. It's not small, it's big. It's important. Democracy in a nation of 300 million can be noisy and messy and complicated. We have our own opinions. Each of us has deeply held beliefs. And when we go through tough times, when we make big decisions as a country, it necessarily stirs passions, stirs up controversy. "

I caught a train back to Connecticut, and typed this account while rain and snow pelted the windows and roof of my silver Amtrak chariot. I passed by streets and graffiti and houses and apartments and entire states. The election and the politics surrounding it seemed a distant novelty when I considered the people surrounding me on the train, the four college kids laughing behind me, the two middle aged women drinking across from me, the man typing furiously in front of me. No matter the antipathy toward our political system, each person I encountered during my trip had been profoundly affected by their government and the election process, just as U.S. citizens since the 1700’s have deeply influenced the government they elect and the society they inhabit. My overwhelming amount of homework was but a small price. In a personal rendition of “my dog ate it”, I told my teachers – “Democracy was at stake.” My president seemed to agree:

"I believe we can seize this future together because we are not as divided as our politics suggests. We're not as cynical as the pundits believe. We are greater than the sum of our individual ambitions, and we remain more than a collection of red states and blue states. We are and forever will be the United States of America."