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Authors: Bernie Sanders, Huck Gutman
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effectiveness in this area also results from what Elizabeth Ready, a state senate colleague, describes as her âspunky spirit.â 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 itâs 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 âtoss up.â I canât disagree with that assessment.
*Â Â Â Â Â Â *Â Â Â Â Â Â *
Election Day, or Town Meeting Day as we call it in Vermont, was March 3, 1981. I got up at five oâclock in the morning, ready to go. As I drove down North Avenue I saw telephone poles plastered with red-and-white âSanders for Mayorâ 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 âSanders for Mayorâ 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 Patrolmenâs 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 3âtraditionally Democratic and working classâby 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
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 itâs 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 âtoss up.â I canât disagree with that assessment.
*Â Â Â Â Â Â *Â Â Â Â Â Â *
Election Day, or Town Meeting Day as we call it in Vermont, was March 3, 1981. I got up at five oâclock in the morning, ready to go. As I drove down North Avenue I saw telephone poles plastered with red-and-white âSanders for Mayorâ 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 âSanders for Mayorâ 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 Patrolmenâs 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 3âtraditionally Democratic and working classâby 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
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