The alarm goes off on the eighth of January, and I roll over, staring at the time. 4:56. “Dammit, Barack,” I grumble.
I was up an hour early to meet a carpool at the Kennebunk exit for the Turnpike to go to Rochester, New Hampshire. This carpool was leaving at a quarter to six in the morning, headed for Senator Barack Obama’s campaign on Primary Election day. Why?
Once in a while, one is confronted with the opportunity to do something he or she thinks is very important, that can’t be passed up. I believe in Sen. Obama’s message of hope, and could not have forgiven myself for passing up an opportunity to make the small difference I could make, to help him how I may.
Waiting to leave the park and ride at the Kennebunk exit, I got an idea of how active the campaign trail was in New Hampshire, from Maine director of Students for Barack Obama, Benjamin Goodman. Goodman told a story of two workers, one for Hillary Clinton and one for John McCain. They were kicked out of their hotel room because their third room mate, a Mitt Romney supporter, was hooking up with a Ron Paul supporter.
“So if there’s a Paul/Romney alliance,” Goodman remarked sarcastically, “we know where it came from.”
Pulling out at 6:00, Kennebunk senior Tobin Weltin was driving the convoy’s lead car with Goodman, a fellow KHS senior, and KHS freshman Teddy Nichols sat beside me in the backseat.
After hot muffins passed out in the dark by KHS ’06 graduate Caley Ostrander, and a great amount of complaining about the time from Falmouth senior Kevin Kirby, we were finally on the road, serenaded along the way in our car by Imus in the Morning, Goodman’s favorite morning program.
On the way up, Goodman attempted to hail the early-morning New Hampshirites with a circular Obama sign out the window, which promptly blew out of his hands. We had brief fears of it landing on a windshield and causing a highly publicized and election-losing accident, but fortunately the minivan driven by KHS junior Sara Cressey flattened the offending sign and solved the problem for us.
We arrived in Rochester to find that New Hampshire had become, in Goodman’s words, the political capital of the world. The streets were lined with signs and screaming campaign workers, all before seven o’clock in the morning.
Early commuters were being hailed by students on the side of the road, and cars honked as they passed Obama supporters toting “Honk for Change” signs. There seemed to be more Mitt Romney signs than people.
From 7:00 to 8:45 we stood on a rotary in the center of Rochester, waving Obama signs and making general idiots of ourselves, waving and screaming at cars, and raising the chant, “Be a part of something great – Obama, oh-eight.” Many people honked for change or waved to us, but some others shook their heads and yelled “Hillary!” or “Ron Paul!” at us.
With cold toes and fingertips, we trouped back to campaign headquarters at 8:45, and signed in. Ostrander, Weltin, ’07 KHS graduate Liisa Rajala and myself went for a Dunkin Donuts run for the Kennebunk crowd, collected the warm goodness and brought it all back for everyone, thoroughly improving everyone’s mood.
Promptly thereafter the four of us headed out to Gonick, New Hampshire, assigned to canvass, or go door-to-door talking to prospective voters. Most weren’t home, presumably at work.
However, all but two voters I spoke to on the first canvassing run were voting for Sen. Obama.
Returning to canvassing headquarters in Gonick, we were given Papa Gino’s pizza, which was surprisingly good, even considering how hungry we were.
We then headed back HQ in Rochester and were sent back out to do visibility work standing in front of an Elks’ lodge voting place.
When we arrived at the polling site, representatives from each major campaign were there, including a wholesome old man on a stool toting a Duncan Hunter sign. As we greeted voters on their way to the polls, he told us stories of his endeavors as a Boston resident in the poor area, and debated history and politics with us.
This talk drew over a Iraq veteran who was disputing the Hunter supporter’s claim that enlistment was higher in Iraq veterans than in regular troopers, thus proving that they believed the job could be done. The veteran, who supported Congressman Paul, became very angry with the Hunter man, but eventually calmed down.
He and I traded stories about the military, mine being retold stories heard from my brother, a sergeant in the Marine Corps who served a tour in Anbarr province.
We rushed back to HQ for 2:45, having been distracted by the debating, and began a whole new and daunting challenge – night canvassing. It was important that the last voters got out to the polls, and so Campaign was determined to hit every single house again. We noticed a lack of Obama signs on the streets, and when we brought it up the director for the campaign office told us our visibility was at people’s door.
Unlike the daytime canvassing, which was mostly done alone and on foot, this night canvassing was done strictly in pairs, and mostly by car.
I was paired with a Freeport resident named Bill who mostly drove, where I got out and ran to knock on doors. We hit our turf, or assigned neighborhoods, twice, and went back to HQ.
By the time we got back, it was nearing 7:00. Goodman had hoped to get us into the Obama rally at Nashua North High School, the doors to which opened at 7:30. It was a hike to Nashua, so we took off when everyone was back.
On the road, we heard the first sign of the bad news. Sen. Clinton had a 5% lead on our man, with about 30% of precincts reported.
It was a frustrated car ride in which we blamed the tears, or the poll that put Sen. Obama 14% ahead of Sen. Clinton – the poll presumably led many independents planning to vote for Obama to believe their vote was better served going against Gov. Romney in the Sen. McCain camp. The tears supposedly aroused much support from elderly voters, who flocked in record numbers to the polls, just as the youth rose as never seen before to vote for Sen. Obama.
We arrived at a gym packed with people of all ages. The buzz of nervous chatter filled the air under the somewhat unearthly light from the bright lights above. People shifted from foot to foot, some hands clasped in prayer. The tension was binding, exhilarating, and the crowd erupted every time the news showed the stats and the change in the standings, seemingly as a way to let off the steam generated by the boiling anticipation.
At 9:12, 34% of the precincts showed a 36:40 Obama to Clinton ratio – Sen. Obama had gained one point out of five reported before.
At 9:16, Sen. Obama gained another point.
At 9:18, the Senator was behind by one. The gym exploded, people screaming, waiting for him to gain that last point to tie, and then forge on into the lead we all believed he had to have. People were jumping in the air, clapping and screaming, many chanting, “O-BA-MA! O-BA-MA!”
The commotion died down eventually as reports ceased coming in; all the small towns were in, and now we had to wait for the larger precincts to report. As we resigned ourselves to a long, long night of waiting, hoping and praying, analysts’ and politicians’ words resonated through the gym from the huge TV screen on the opposite wall. People in the stands were on their feet, fidgeting or stamping their feet to relieve tension.
The polls started coming in again – suddenly the ratio was 39% to 36% again, in Sen. Clinton’s favor – we began chanting, screaming, urging the polls to favor the Senator, “We still believe! We still believe! We still believe!”
The Associated Press called the vote, with less than 70% of precincts in. The gym filled with boos, then erupted in cheers as CNN announced that it was too early to call the race. “We still believe!” came back in force, and minutes later, wordless howls filled the gym. Two people were walking up on stage, and after waving for quiet, they congratulated the voters and thanked the volunteers.
I was devastated when they said this – I knew what was coming. But when the Senator appeared to speak, the gym thundered with applause and screams without words, filled with nothing more than animalistic emotion. All the signs were waving, and the screaming voices nearly broke my heart, because I expected that they didn’t know what was coming.
The Senator stood at the podium, looking absolutely calm, and tried to wave down the cheers and applause, but had only moderate success for a long time. When he finally did speak, he first said he was still fired up and ready to go. After the cheers greeting this died down, he congratulated Sen. Clinton on her victory.
My legs almost gave way.
However, he went on to dispel the Comeback Kid card the press had already begun playing for Sen. Clinton by casting himself as the true miracle story, and reminding everyone of how far the campaign has come. We’re doing great, he told us, keep it up. I’m not worried at all, he was telling us. This electrified the crowd, and brought me to the realization that they had expected him to concede. They just knew that this was one state, and the message of hope would travel on, made stronger and more passionate by the close contest.
“Yes we can,” he told us. “Yes we can heal this nation. Yes we can repair this
world.”
I was rejuvenated, and am now fired up and ready to go work for him in Massachusetts, Maine, and maybe even Vermont or Connecticut.
Looking back a few short hours later, the experience as a whole – the 15-hour day on the ground, on the phone, and on the side of the road, my first day on the campaign trail – was extraordinary.
If you believe in the message of a candidate enough to be willing to try getting up at five of five in the morning, it’d be a crime not to give it a go some day. And if you’re hesitant about the “I’m tired” piece, remember how tired the candidate you’re supporting has to be.
Go for it. Give it a try. I dare you.