Musings on the Campaign Trail Part 1: Local Leaders Head North

Campaigning is a wild beast, morphing from dim-lit rooms packed with strategists spinning their secret visions, to glitzy fundraisers where champagne flows and handshakes are currency, along with fat checks, all to get candidates and propositions across the finish line.

But what I like most in campaigning is working in the field. I hopped on a bus appointed by the NYC democratic coalition Vote Blue NYC, and a group of approximately fifty volunteers were chartered to Rockland County, where Democrat Mondaire Jones is running to retake a congressional seat he abandoned in 2022.

Paul Devlin, the Democratic district leader for Hell’s Kitchen and Erik Bottcher, a NYC Council Member representing the west side of Manhattan, were bus captains and cheerfully coached volunteers on the dos and don’ts of canvassing.

Once our bus arrived in Nanuet, a hamlet of almost 20,000 people with a growing Latino population, we entered the campaign office for Mr. Jones and all the down-ballot Democratic candidates. Campaign offices are usually located in battered shopping malls. Like in all campaign offices, tables with palm cards and candidates’ literature occupied most of the space. The walls were covered with posters, maps of the various electoral districts, along with the name of the field organizer for each area. A few vintage posters lighten up the décor, including one of Kennedy – John Fitzgerald, that is. And another of Harry S. Truman.

While the long line of our volunteers formed to use the sole bathroom, the young and energetic campaign staff started deploying our small army in the field.

Once the campaign gave us our instructions, I hopped in a fellow canvasser’s car, along with a pair of Manhattan volunteers.

Our turf was Haverstraw, another hamlet perched on the ledge of the Hudson River. The neighborhood was predominantly Latino two-story single-family homes that had been subdivided into smaller apartments. It was a short stroll away from the Hudson River, with glorious views of the water. The misty drizzle coated the neighborhood with the bespoke charm of an area forgotten by most.

José greeted me with a broad smile in his front yard. The Latino man in his early seventies looked intrigued. I introduced myself and we started chatting. “I vote Democrat up and down the ballot,” he said. I’ve lived in this house for over 50 years.” I told him about the candidates, Mondaire Jones for Congress, Elijah Reichlin-Melnick for state senate. José had never heard of them. I asked him what his main concerns were. “My main issues? Same as everybody: Healthcare, housing, safety, education. I will vote for all the Democrats. Because I always have.”

As I turned away, I bumped into a family. The young and attractive mother was trying to convince a mischievous toddler to stand still so that she could snap a photo. I waved a large smile and asked her to vote for Mondaire Jones. She shrieked. “No, he’s part of this group. He’s baaad”. “What group?” her partner inquired. “Bad, no, no” She grabbed her little girl by the hand and pulled the whole family towards her house, away from my palm cards.

I moved on to the next door. “Who is it?” a woman’s voice said. I told her I was a volunteer for Mondaire Jones. She opened. She looked tired and forlorn. I wanted to know what mattered most to her. She started to cry and told me that her adult son was in the hospital. He had tried to commit suicide. She shared more details about her son, about her angst. A mother, lonely, worried, burdened by the weight of mental illness. I asked if she and her son were connected to a social worker. Cheeks salty with tears, she thanked me for listening. I thanked her for sharing. As she closed the door, I swallowed my own tears. The weight of her sorrow had settled on my shoulders. Her quavering voice was a blunt reminder of why policy matters—why funding mental health services and social workers are essential.

When we returned to the bus, the campaign proudly told us that our army of volunteers had knocked on more than 2,000 doors.

What does it take to seize victory in the tumultuous realm of elections? The answer eludes us. Perhaps, just perhaps, the secret lies in the simple act of meeting voters where they dwell, both in the tangible world of doorsteps and in the deeper, more profound landscapes of their thoughts and aspirations.