Outsider in the White House (6 page)

But deep down Phil knows that he is a doomed man. He will have to jump-start the campaign, work eighty hours a week, and deal with terrible pressure. I know all of the progressives in Vermont and Phil, by far, has the best organizational capabilities and temperament for the job. Further, he knows me well and tolerates my many foibles.

We briefly consider the possibility of hiring out of state, but dismiss the idea. You just can't put an ad in the
New York Times
saying, “Wanted. Campaign manager for the only Independent in Congress. Knowledge of democratic socialism and independent politics required. Familiarity with Vermont and rural life a must. Eighty hours a week. Terrific responsibility. Low pay.” Frankly, there aren't too many folks around who would respond to that ad. I'll stick with the Vermonter.

Phil, Jane, myself, and a few close friends discuss some of the immediate challenges. As we talk, I compile a list of the major concerns we face in the campaign. It looks like this:

MONEY

STAFF

STYLE

GUNS

MEDIA

MY HEALTH

OUR “MESSAGE”

To many people this list might seem like a strange hodgepodge. Political issues, fundraising, media strategy, and my personal concerns logically should be in separate categories. But when you sit down to a political meal, you don't find meat on one platter and vegetables and potatoes in separate bowls. A campaign is like a stew. Everything is in one pot. All the issues are mixed up together.

Money

When Sweetser announced her candidacy in November, she refused to discuss campaign spending limits, which meant that her wealthy friends were going to supply her with a bundle. Last campaign, we raised over $700,000. This time we'll need more, probably $900,000, which is a lot considering that my campaigns are financed primarily from small individual contributions. We also receive PAC money from labor unions, senior citizen organizations, environmental, women's, and children's groups, but the bulk of our funds come from ordinary people with limited resources. Since we have been criticized in the past for raising too much money out of state (even though we always have many more Vermont individual contributors than any other candidate), we are determined to raise substantially more in Vermont. Our supporters don't have a lot of money and we can't hold $500-a-plate fundraisers. But we can do much better than in the past.

Staff

Finding people skilled in the intricacies of campaign work is more difficult than it sounds. Most people do not sit at home for a year and a half, waiting to work on a campaign. Sometimes you luck out and get experienced, mature people in between jobs. Sometimes you don't. One of the problems with our last campaign was that our staff was young and inexperienced and they didn't get along terribly well. They were all terrific and hard-working people, but there were clashes of personality. In fact, as I later learned, chairs occasionally went flying across the room. This time we wanted to hire a more mature and compatible staff.

Style

I had not run a good campaign in 1994, and when I assessed its weaknesses I had to acknowledge that it was me, not the staff, that was the major problem. My style of campaigning had been too passive. I had been reluctant to respond quickly and vigorously when I was attacked. My attitude was: “The people aren't going to believe this nonsense. They know what I stand for. I don't have to respond to every stupid criticism.” Wrong. This time we would respond immediately and forcefully. Further, we would not allow ourselves to be on the defensive. My opponent had served four years in the state senate, and had a record. We would let Vermonters know about it.

Guns

During the 1994 campaign the National Rifle Association (NRA) had played a very forceful role against me. They distributed widely a “Bye, Bye, Bernie” bumper sticker, held press conferences and public meetings, placed radio ads, made phone calls—and it was effective. There is no question that we lost many working-class men in that election because we handled the gun issue badly.

Vermont is a rural state in which tens of thousands of people enjoy hunting and own guns. During hunting season thousands of kids go out with their fathers and mothers to hunt and enjoy the outdoors. Vermont is an “outdoor” state—and hunting is a key part of that way of life. I am pro-gun, and pro-hunting. But I don't believe that hunters need assault weapons and AK-47s to kill deer. I voted for the ban on assault weapons, which brought the wrath of the NRA down on me.

For this campaign, we devise a three-pronged strategy on the gun issue. First, according to a number of polls, the vast majority of Vermonters (and Americans)
support
the ban on assault weapons. Susan Sweetser's position—the straight NRA line, which is opposition to all gun control—is way out of touch with what Vermonters believe. We are going to make that clear. Second, we will bring into the campaign a number of hunters who support my position on the ban on assault weapons. Third, we will ask friends who
disagree
with the ban to publicly support my candidacy by stating that guns are only one issue among many. As one NRA friend told me, “You can't buy an AK-47 without a job. Let's get our priorities straight.”

Media

For most of my political life I've had a problem with WCAX-TV, the largest television station in the state. Pure and simple, it's a Republican station. The owner of WCAX is a wealthy, conservative Republican and major contributor to the state party. Unsurprisingly, the news division often reflects his views. The station is not a right-wing wacko operation; many of its political stories are fair and accurate, and it has a number of good reporters. But overall, and in a consistent way, there is a very clear Republican bias to its reporting, which usually becomes more conspicuous as election time draws near. And I'm not the only target. Other Progressives, liberal Democrats, Senator Leahy—all have been skewered by WCAX at one time or another. Positive stories are ignored, negative stories are played up. There is no easy way of dealing with this. It's hard to win a fight against someone behind a TV camera. We need to keep thinking about it.

Health

In modern politics, the personal becomes the political whether we like it or not. And I am facing personal difficulties that could have troublesome implications for the upcoming campaign. Ever since the end of the last campaign, my voice has been hoarse, sometimes almost inaudible. Once, on the floor of the House, I could barely complete a speech. I must drink water constantly while I'm talking, and I can't speak publicly without a microphone. More and more my voice seems unnatural and strained. Personally, it is getting to be a real drag, and I think it is hurting me politically.

Doctors have diagnosed the problem as a nodule on my vocal cords, and recommend surgery. I have never had a serious medical problem in my life. I haven't spent a night in the hospital since I was born. I don't want a doctor scraping away at my vocal cords and making me sound like Donald Duck.

I'm trying for a “natural cure.” I drink all kinds of weird teas. I've taken homeopathic remedies. I'm supporting the cough drop industry. I'm trying to change my way of speaking. It's all very interesting, but none of it is working.

I don't want to do it, but if my voice doesn't get better soon, I'm going to have the surgery. I can't go through the campaign like this. A reporter recently asked me, “Do you have throat cancer?” Every time I'm on the radio someone asks me about my voice. If people think that I am in poor health, I'm not going to win this election.

Message

It may seem surprising, but of all the challenges ahead the decision of what my overall campaign message will be is the easiest to address. For two years I've been listening to the garbage of Gingrich and his right-wing friends. And for two years I've been fighting them. This campaign is going to be about the Gingrich agenda.

If elected, Ms. Sweetser will vote for Gingrich as Speaker of the House. If Vermonters want massive cuts in Medicare, Medicaid, education, veterans' programs, and environmental protection, together with huge tax breaks for the rich, Ms. Sweetser is going to be elected the next representative from Vermont. Frankly, I don't think that's going to happen.

Nonetheless, I know that Sweetser will be a very tough opponent. She is bright, articulate, attractive, and very popular. Further, she has an unusual history indicating a great deal of courage and strength. Kevin J. Kelley described Sweetser in a November article in the
Vermont Times
, a weekly newspaper:

Susan Sweetser brings several assets to her race against Congressman Bernie Sanders. Foremost among them is her standing as one of the most popular young politicians in Vermont. After only a single term in the legislature, the 36-year-old Republican finished first in 1994 in the crowded and highly competitive field of candidates vying for state senate seats from Chittenden County. Sweetser is a rising star likely to shine brightly for many years in state—and possibly national—politics.

Sweetser is still associated in the public mind mainly with her courageous decision in 1989 to reveal that she had been raped nine years earlier. In acknowledging that she had been sexually assaulted, Sweetser defied the social taboo that requires women to remain silent and not to challenge the unwarranted sense of shame felt by many rape victims.

Having helped initiate a candid discussion on a sensitive subject, Sweetser went on to campaign tirelessly on behalf of “victims' rights.” She founded Survivors of Crime, Inc., a group that advocates tougher penalties and preventive measures in regard to crimes of violence. Sweetser's effectiveness in this area also results from what Elizabeth Ready, a state senate colleague, describes as her “spunky spirit.” Sweetser exemplifies the sort of determined, do-it-yourself approach to life sure to appeal to many Vermonters.

Yes, this is going to be a tough election. The early polls show that. On February 28, a
Rutland Herald
poll has me ahead by 47 percent to 32 percent. Maybe that sounds good, but it's not. I am much better known than Sweetser, and early polls almost always give an advantage to the incumbent. In fact, as the
Rutland Herald
points out, a poll which they did in late June 1994 had me almost thirty points ahead of my opponent that year, John Carroll, and I won by only three points. Sweetser is starting her campaign much earlier than Carroll did, and already has better name recognition than he did.
Roll Call
, a Washington political newspaper that analyzes congressional races, calls the race a “toss up.” I can't disagree with that assessment.

*      *      *

Election Day, or Town Meeting Day as we call it in Vermont, was March 3, 1981. I got up at five o'clock in the morning, ready to go. As I drove down North Avenue I saw telephone poles plastered with red-and-white “Sanders for Mayor” posters. Campaign volunteers, mostly from the low-income housing projects, had been up early, and the signs served notice that our election-day effort was proceeding as planned. Their presence seemed a good omen: we were everywhere, we were ready for the final day.

As I continued the drive from my apartment to the north end of the city, I noticed a young nurse, dressed for work later that morning in her white uniform, holding up a “Sanders for Mayor” sign at a major intersection. I had not expected to see her out there, shivering in the early morning cold, symbolic of the energy and commitment that had propelled our campaign. Another good omen.

Still, I was far from confident that the day would be ours. There was a chance that we would surprise everyone and walk away with the election. A nice comeuppance for the newspaper columnist who the day before had predicted that I would lose by twenty points. Still, as had always been the case for me in the past, I could get obliterated. Conventional wisdom was with the newspaper columnist: despite the surprising endorsement of the Patrolmen's Association, despite the wide support we seemed to be drawing throughout the city, Bernie Sanders and the progressive effort could still get hammered.

What no one anticipated, but what in fact happened, was a nailbiter.

The day was a blur. I made appearances at each of the six ward polling places. I kept checking with Linda Niedweskie at campaign central to see how things were going and what the voter turnout was like. The good news for us was that voting was heavier than usual, 25 percent higher than in previous mayoral elections. Supporters wished me well. Campaign workers ferried elderly and low-income voters to the polls in the carpools we had organized.

The polls closed at seven. In each ward the votes were tallied by ward officials, most observed by members of our independent coalition. As my friend Richard had predicted months before as we pored over those musty polling books in City Hall, I did extremely well in the working-class districts. In fact, we carried Wards 2 and 3—traditionally Democratic and working class—by almost two to one over Paquette.

As the vote totals rolled in, it appeared that the election would be very close. Our strong performance in the low-income and working-class wards was being offset by a less than inspiring performance in the more affluent wards. Apparently, speaking forthrightly about the needs of working people made wealthy folks nervous. With all of the machine ballots counted, and with the absentee ballots tallied everywhere but in Ward 3, we were ahead, though not by much. Only the paper absentee ballots in that one Democratically controlled ward remained to be counted. We waited anxiously.

What seemed like an interminable amount of time passed, and still there was no word from Ward 3. Finally, surrounded by lawyers and supporters, I marched into the ward polling place to see what was going on. A few minutes later, a group of ward functionaries came out from behind a closed door, where they had been counting the ballots. Even though I had won the ward by two to one on the voting machines, it seems I had lost the absentee ballot count by the same amount.