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Friday, Jul 10, 2009
The election ground game in the Badger State is a grinding door-to-door battle for every vote.
Oct 7, 2004 | In the presidential battleground state of Wisconsin, West Allis is a political free-fire zone where a guerrilla campaign is being waged house to house. In this old, inner-ring suburb of Milwaukee, George W. Bush beat Al Gore in 2000 by just 184 votes out of 29,050 cast -- and some precincts were split precisely in half. West Allis is still starkly divided, and no issue is more divisive than the war in Iraq.
The suburb's residents are largely aging, white, working- and middle-class families, many of whom have bumped through long layoffs and wrenching job changes as global economic forces and unsupportive public policies have roiled the highly skilled manufacturing industries of southeast Wisconsin. While their economic interests and worries may tilt them toward the Democrats, concern about taxes, social conservatism (especially opposition to abortion) and now anxieties about war or terrorism tilt many to the Republicans.
On streets of comfortable but modest bungalows and ranch houses decorated with ambitious displays of Halloween ghosts, jack-o'-lanterns and witches, ubiquitous yard signs for Kerry-Edwards are typically juxtaposed with signs for Bush-Cheney. But the steady stream of people knocking on doors these days are not trick-or-treaters. They are canvassers on behalf of the presidential candidates, assiduously pursuing "lazy Republicans" or "swing Democrats" before a final blitz to get every voter to the polls -- or better yet, to vote absentee in advance.
The broadcast "air war" in Wisconsin is intense. The state is one of the top five in overall television and radio advertising by or for the presidential candidates, according to the Wisconsin Advertising Project. The Center for Public Integrity reports that since last June Wisconsin has been the top state for advertising for both sides by the independent "527" groups, named after the tax code provision that permits their existence -- such as the Swift Boat Veterans and Progress for America Voter Fund (the top spender) for Bush and the Media Fund and MoveOn.org Voter Fund for John Kerry.
Both sides agree that the race in Wisconsin could very well be as close as it was in 2000. Then Gore won by 5,708 votes out of nearly 2.5 million (with 94,070 going to Ralph Nader, who once again is on the ballot). The state has a Democratic governor, two Democratic senators (including incumbent Russell Feingold, favored strongly for reelection), an even split among the eight members of the U.S. House, and both houses of the state Legislature under the control of conservative Republicans. It has produced politicians ranging from red-baiting Republican Sen. Joe McCarthy to Earth Day founder Democratic Sen. Gaylord Nelson. Hardcore Democratic strongholds in Milwaukee, Madison and the far north balance the Republican strongholds in other rural areas and the suburbs. Going into the first presidential debate, Bush led in the polls, which ranged from three statistical ties to three other polls showing Bush leading by eight to 14 points (numbers that even Bush partisans dismissed as far-fetched).
Both sides also agree that with a tight contest, the electoral war is likely to be determined by the boots on the ground -- the armies of paid and volunteer workers who have spent many months trying to register new voters, identify supporters, persuade the undecided, and eventually get every possible friendly voter to the polling places. On that front, Kerry seems to have the advantage, even though Republicans have been trying since 2002 to gear up an effort to combat the old-fashioned politicking that the labor movement has revived with great success since 1996. Groups supporting Kerry -- or doing work that indirectly helps Kerry -- have a larger and more diverse effort on the ground, which nearly every knowledgeable participant describes as unprecedented in size, scope and sophistication.
In the days after the first presidential debate, it appeared that Kerry had done well enough among the remaining sliver of persuadable or undecided voters to tighten the race in Wisconsin and make the ground war even more critical. Equally important, his performance energized the foot soldiers, those who have to endure hours of knocking on doors of empty homes, snarling dogs and hostile rejections by partisans of their opponent.
The morning after the first debate, Ken Morton, 32, a food-service manager for the Milwaukee Public Schools, and Reyna Rundberg, 56, a nursing-home worker from Chicago, gathered at the headquarters of the Milwaukee County Labor Council to start yet another day of intensive political work, modeled on a union organizing drive. They would drive through West Allis and try to track down undecided union members and persuade them to vote for Kerry. Both are among the 2,038 "Heroes" the Service Employees International Union has recruited, reimbursing their salaries, for months of work in 11 battleground states.
As Rundberg drove her aging Nissan sedan in search of the first person on their list, she and Morton excitedly reviewed Kerry's best jabs in the debate. Rundberg liked how Kerry contrasted his awkward explanation of his vote on $87 billion for Iraq with Bush's bigger mistake of rushing to war. Morton thought Kerry scored when he chided Bush for not listening "to what his own father said about Iraq" becoming an occupation nightmare. Both had become much more passionate about politics after the Florida voting debacle in 2000 and were excited to be able to take off from work to campaign. But Morton admitted that until recently he'd felt "leery" about Kerry, worrying that he hadn't spelled out his plans clearly enough. No longer. "I'm fired up," he said. The debate "was exciting. I didn't think it would be so clear."
