I’m sure you’re tuned into a new migratory trend in this country. It’s not about “criminals streaming across our border.” Retired and otherwise unoccupied individuals from solidly blue states (like Massachusetts) are traveling to so-called swing states to canvass potential voters for the Democratic party.
While the Boston Celtics were rampaging through the NBA playoffs this past summer, Ellen and I made the mistake of telling our neighbor that we were going to attend an October wedding in his home state of Minnesota. With a few quick questions, he was able to discern that we were planning to be right on the Minnesota-Wisconsin border at the precise time that he and a group of friends from around the country were converging on western Wisconsin to canvass potential voters there. Couldn’t we spend part of our trip in Richland County with his group, soon to be called The Silverbacks?
Given Ellen’s very limited vacation time, and my total rejection of the Biden Administration’s response to the carnage in Gaza, there were no shortage of reasons to gracelessly decline. My neighbor is, however, a patient, persistent organizer who eventually got us to agree to spend three of our nine precious vacation nights with the Silverbacks in a big Airbnb in Lafarge, Wisconsin.
At this point, I could veer into all the questions about the migratory canvassing strategy or all the reasons why I have managed to live 71 years--50 of those as some kind of activist--without doing anything similar. Instead, I’ll share a bit about what it was like to canvass for the Democratic Party in rural Wisconsin. Desperate times call for desperate measures…and contradictory actions, I suppose.
The other Silverbacks had already been at work for four days before we arrived, so our first evening was a time for stories of great conversations, dogs on the loose, long rides between houses, and doors politely and less politely shut in faces. We were privileged to be doing this with such committed (and fun) people. One Silverback, who is also a neighbor, reported getting chased back into his car by a snarling dog, and then squinting to see a sign on a tree that read, “If you can read this, you are in range,” Most of the stories were a bit more motivational. After a short introduction to the canvasser’s friend, the Minivan app, we were ready to go.
Steve, who got us into this, joined us for the first day, which was a great way to begin. We drove for over a half-hour just to reach our first house in the town of Cazenovia. Along the way, we traversed beautiful farmland dominated by acres and acres of fall corn. We also passed a lot of political signs, at least three-quarters of which bore the name of the former President. We had clearly escaped the Boston Bubble.
The local party organizers who had created our canvassing lists had assured us that we would be talking to known Democrats, independents, and “persuadable” Republicans. Even if they were on the list, we were not to knock at houses displaying Trump signs, which eliminated quite a few houses. We also did not approach houses where no one was registered to vote, which seemed odd to me.
When we finally got to the first two houses we were to canvass, one of them had been abandoned for renovation and no one was home at the second one. This was a good introduction. Close to half the doors we touched on this trip were not answered, either because no one was home or whoever was home didn’t want to speak. At those houses, we dropped literature.
At house number three, a young man in work boots and the ubiquitous baseball hat met us in his driveway. He had recently moved to Cazenovia from a small town in East Texas, and was rushing to renovate his dilapidated dwelling before winter. He stood and talked to us for several minutes about God having brought him to Wisconsin. He claimed to be undecided on the election. There were times to prioritize citizenship and times to focus on prayer, and this might be a time for the latter. I left feeling that this man was a Trump voter, but he had no intention of sharing that news with two strangers from Boston.
This was true of a lot of the people with whom we spoke. They had no idea who we were, so they were going to be careful about what they said to us. If we had been doing a formal poll, they would have pleaded “undecided,” but they knew very well what they were going to do.
Fear and appreciation were both palpable among the fifty or so households who actually engaged with us. The appreciation came from openly Democratic voters who were so happy to be visited by someone canvassing for their candidate. We sensed that our presence--even as people who were clearly not from there--signaled a welcome trend toward more Democratic engagement in Richland County.
That appreciation was closely related to the other side of the emotional coin...fear. Of all the Democrats with whom we spoke, only one displayed a Harris sign on their property. When we asked about this, some were willing to say that having a Harris sign just didn’t seem like a wise thing to do in Richland County. They were concerned about what would happen after the election, especially if Trump lost. Other Silverbacks had similar conversations with Democratic voters, which made me feel more respect for families that had decided to be public about their support for Harris.
The people organizing our canvassing made some mistakes in choosing the “persuadable Republicans.” At about noon on the first day, we drove up to what looked like a very prosperous farm in Cazenovia. As we got out of the car, a small tractor came around the corner and a burly man carrying a shiny green coffee cup stepped down with a gruff, “Whadd’ya need?”
He interrupted us before we could finish introducing ourselves saying, “You don’t want to know about my politics.” That should have been our sign to get back into the car, but instead I said, “We came all the way out here so of course we want to know about your politics.”
His face immediately hardened, and he hissed, “Nobody wants that Black b____ to get in.” I was happy that Ellen was not part of this one. I looked at Steve as if to say, “Did I just hear what I thought I heard?” I looked back at our potential voter and his face said, “Now, if you know what’s good for you, you’ll get the hell out of here.” We left.
Just down the road we found one of the friendliest farmers we had met on the entire trip, an older man living in a smaller home with a beautiful flower garden. When my co-conspirators asked about his neighbor, he smiled and said, “Oh, that guy...he’s crazy...I can’t believe they sent you to his house.” And so it was that we made our way through Trump country.
That ugly interaction was unique to the dozens of conversations we had in Wisconsin. The dogs running loose at the houses we visited were more of a threat to us than the MAGA Republicans, but I will definitely remember the man with the shiny green coffee cup more than any of the very pleasant Midwesterners that we met. That brief interaction helped explain why there were so few Harris signs in this part of the county and why the local party structure was overjoyed to have out-of-state volunteers canvass potential voters. It was not at all hard to understand why local party activists do not go door-to-door in their county.
Most of the Silverbacks were men. I was lucky to knock on many doors with Ellen, and I think her presence really changed many of our conversations. In the driveway of a yellow ranch house in the middle of many acres of farmland in Ithaca, WI, a woman probably in her fifties talked at length about her concern about the Republican attacks on abortion rights. While never identifying herself as pro-choice, she made a powerful argument about leaving these choices in the hands of women and their health providers. I am quite certain that this conversation would never have occurred if two men had come lumbering into this woman’s afternoon. She clearly needed someone to talk to about this, and Ellen became that person by virtue of our arrival at her door. That woman will be a Harris voter.
On Thursday, October 17, Kamala Harris made a campaign stop in La Crosse, Wisconsin, 42 miles north of Lafarge. All Silverbacks were invited to attend. I was tempted to go see what a political speech in eastern Wisconsin would be like, but since Thursday was to be our last day of canvassing, Ellen and I opted to forego the speech and canvass the good voters of Ithaca, Wisconsin. By complete coincidence, I was wearing the hat our son acquired as a member of the Ithaca (College) Rugby Club, a natural conversation starter. Several Silverbacks attended the speech and returned energized by the experience. We were happy with our decision to touch more doors.
Over two days of canvassing, we drove almost 250 miles to touch less than 100 doors. It was a memorable experience for us carpetbaggers, but I had to wonder if it was worth all of the effort to get 14 Silverbacks to Lafarge from Illinois, Massachusetts, Maryland, and Minnesota.
The Richland County Dems obviously anticipated that some of us might harbor such doubts. In their effusive thank you note to one of the organizers of the Silverbacks, the local party coordinator noted, among many other positives, that in eight days we had knocked on the doors of 23% of the households of Richland County, energized party activists, and given the party and its candidates a presence in the county that they had not enjoyed in recent memory. Let’s hope it matters.
Our two days driving around a beautiful bit of the earth certainly did not transform me into an activist of a party about which I have decades of concerns. It did not even convince me what to do with my own vote in solidly blue Massachusetts. It was, however, an experience that I’ll not soon forget, and one that left me feeling that I had offered my grain of sand to the desperate effort to keep Donald Trump where he belongs...in court! Yes, desperate times do call for desperate measures
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People don't like leaving comments on here, but I have to share this response to "Carpetbaggers..." from friends canvassing in the wilds of Maine... I hope they don't mind. Too good not to share.
"We are still canvassing up here in rural western Maine, pretty much every day; have lots of stories which I hope we have a chance to share/discuss after we return to Boston. We are here thru the election; both of us are working as poll observers in local towns. We usually went to homes with Trump signs, if they were on our list. One was a trailer - 2 Trump signs at the beginning of the dirt driveway, Trump bumper sticker on one of the trucks, Trump hat on the head of the guy who lived there, sitting in a wheelchair with one leg gone. He was a Trump voter but very friendly and happy to see us (I think he was lonely), even tho a sign on the trailer said “Due to the price of ammunition don’t expect a warning shot.” As we left, I noticed a pistol lying on the wooden ramp. Just one of the many very varied encounters….Also went to a place with an Appeal to Heaven flag, a sign that said “No Trespassing: We’re Tired of Hiding the Bodies” AND another cloth sign sticking in the ground: “In This Home, We Stand with Israel”. They were on our list, but were (probably thankfully) not home.
Helping local Democrats and anti-Trump folks (not necessarily Democrats) feel less isolated seems important right now and into the future.
You both are very brave. However, it is the work to be done! Saludos