StreetImperial
2003-09-24 08:00:49 UTC
Ride on a Dark Horse
Why would anyone support Dennis Kucinich for president?
BY SCOTT HARRELL
I am quite possibly the least political person currently employed by
the
local liberal, pinko, tree-hugging weekly rag.Working here has
certainly
made me infinitely more politically aware, if not exactly active. Now
I
watch hours of news, listen to hours of community and talk radio, and
read several newspapers regularly, following the game like an
armchair
quarterback, screaming at the television and marveling at the
stupidity
of the plays. Now the American political process no longer appears
about
as relevant or beneficial to the average citizen as a copy of the
Koran
printed in Sanskrit; it appears actively dangerous. Why would anybody
walk into an obviously crumbling old mansion and wait around to get
hit
in the head with a falling brick?
But the idea of maybe seeing somebody else get hit in the head with a
falling brick has its own perverse appeal (thank you, Real TV; thank
you, America's Funniest Home Videos). It might be this desire that
propels me to the New World Brewery on a refreshingly balmy Tuesday
night for a meeting of supporters of Democratic presidential nominee
Dennis Kucinich.
Ohio Congressman Kucinich is a left-field (in every sense of the
qualifier) candidate, mostly named in the mainstream press only in
comparison to another upstart runner, former Vermont Governor Howard
Dean, for their similarly grassroots-oriented campaigns. Kucinich is
best known for an incident that stalled his political career while he
was Mayor of Cleveland and, at 31, the youngest leader of a major
U.S.
city in history: In 1978, several Cleveland banks pressured the city
to
sell publicly owned electric utility Muny Light to its private
competitor, CEI, and threatened to foreclose on the city's debt
unless
the purchase took place. Kucinich refused; the banks pushed the city
into default over the debt, and Kucinich lost his re-election bid.
The fact that a majority of the banks' board members also sat on the
board of CEI and owned 1.8-million shares of its stock apparently
made
less grabby headlines than "Mayor Bankrupts City." Kucinich was
lionized
by Ohio's more forward-thinking residents, however, and adopted the
light bulb as his trademark; between 1985 and 1995, Muny Light saved
Clevelanders over $195-million in utility bills, and two decades
later,
Kucinich was issued a commendation by the Cleveland City Council for
his
"courage and foresight."
He's a vegan. He rejects contributions from corporate entities. He
wants
to create a Department of Peace. His platform includes words quite
possibly never before used in one, like "holistic."
In short, he's the perfect candidate for seriously disenchanted
Democrats and those third-party members worried about splitting the
vote. Which means that, in a race about which every Democrat agrees
that
unseating Bush is Priority Alpha-One, unless he can rally every
disenfranchised voter in the country, he seems as likely to be
elected
President as Gumby.
Given Kucinich's platform, and that this shindig was set up through
online event-coordination enabler Meetup.com, the 15 folks who show
up
for this planning soiree constitute an astoundingly diverse group.
It's
official; everyone has e-mail.
The varied little cabal politely listens as secretary Andy Van
Cleave, a
26-year-old musician with a masters in microbiology, recaps their
last
meeting and lists the positions still looking to be filled. An
enthusiastic white-haired couple sporting Kucinich T-shirts applauds;
an
ardent WMNF-88.5 FM fan has brought her daughter. An amiable MC named
Jerry Mascari moves things along. The phrase "regime change" makes
repeated appearances. An aerospace engineer speaks, adeptly changing
soft notions into hard numbers to relatively disquieting effect and
noting that the local precincts guaranteed to be taken by Democrats
are
not enough, a gimme; the party must win new territory to turn the
tide.
As with every focused-interest meeting, time is split pretty equally
between preaching to the choir and emphasizing the need for bigger
numbers, unification, getting the word out. Basically, it's like
watching any fledgling ad hoc group, only with a little less idealism
and a lot more passion. They're aware they're not just swimming the
English Channel, but rather endeavoring to backstroke the Atlantic.
But,
hey, the map says there's a far side to this void, so let's get wet,
already. To an apolitical cynic, this should all come off as
unspeakably
boring. It doesn't.
God, I love a good underdog.
After an hour and a half or so of pointless Republican-bashing and
pointedly good ideas for getting Democrats together, another
get-together is scheduled for Sept. 23. The party begins to break up,
and I endeavor to find out why, when what the Democratic party needs
most is a candidate every single voter can get behind, these
wonderful,
motivated folks choose to back such a radical dark horse.
"I don't think there's anything radical about universal healthcare,
repealing the Patriot Act, withdrawing from NAFTA," says Van Cleave.
"What's radical about that? It seems more an issue of right and
wrong.
There are certain liberties this country was based on, and it doesn't
seem to be [nurturing them] right now.
"I'm just a regular guy who just started watching what's going on,"
he
continues, "and I'm diplomatically trying to inform people of this
candidate. And if he doesn't make it past the primary, I'd never
consider this wasted time."
"This isn't the country I grew up in. I don't consider myself a
liberal.
I was born during the Depression," says 71-year-old Barbara Nicholson
who, along with husband David, is among Kucinich's most ardent
supporters. "I'm sick and tired of all these conservative-liberal
semantics. We're for the good of the country, of the people."
"We'd rather have an election than an auction," says David,
unconsciously serving up the coolest bumper sticker ever. "Now that's
un-American."
This may not be the rally scene from Citizen Kane, but the energy
generated by this small group of like-minded individuals is both
palpable and infectious. Whatever their position on issues or party
affiliation, they've accepted a fact I've managed to avoid facing
since
I was old enough to drive, hold a job, pay taxes, and put off
registering for the draft until I thought somebody might actually
send
me to jail for it:
We don't have the option of not entering the crumbling old mansion.
We live there.
Hell, I might even vote next year.
Scott Harrell can be reached at 813-248-8888, ext. 109, or by e-mail
at
***@weeklyplanet.com.
Why would anyone support Dennis Kucinich for president?
BY SCOTT HARRELL
I am quite possibly the least political person currently employed by
the
local liberal, pinko, tree-hugging weekly rag.Working here has
certainly
made me infinitely more politically aware, if not exactly active. Now
I
watch hours of news, listen to hours of community and talk radio, and
read several newspapers regularly, following the game like an
armchair
quarterback, screaming at the television and marveling at the
stupidity
of the plays. Now the American political process no longer appears
about
as relevant or beneficial to the average citizen as a copy of the
Koran
printed in Sanskrit; it appears actively dangerous. Why would anybody
walk into an obviously crumbling old mansion and wait around to get
hit
in the head with a falling brick?
But the idea of maybe seeing somebody else get hit in the head with a
falling brick has its own perverse appeal (thank you, Real TV; thank
you, America's Funniest Home Videos). It might be this desire that
propels me to the New World Brewery on a refreshingly balmy Tuesday
night for a meeting of supporters of Democratic presidential nominee
Dennis Kucinich.
Ohio Congressman Kucinich is a left-field (in every sense of the
qualifier) candidate, mostly named in the mainstream press only in
comparison to another upstart runner, former Vermont Governor Howard
Dean, for their similarly grassroots-oriented campaigns. Kucinich is
best known for an incident that stalled his political career while he
was Mayor of Cleveland and, at 31, the youngest leader of a major
U.S.
city in history: In 1978, several Cleveland banks pressured the city
to
sell publicly owned electric utility Muny Light to its private
competitor, CEI, and threatened to foreclose on the city's debt
unless
the purchase took place. Kucinich refused; the banks pushed the city
into default over the debt, and Kucinich lost his re-election bid.
The fact that a majority of the banks' board members also sat on the
board of CEI and owned 1.8-million shares of its stock apparently
made
less grabby headlines than "Mayor Bankrupts City." Kucinich was
lionized
by Ohio's more forward-thinking residents, however, and adopted the
light bulb as his trademark; between 1985 and 1995, Muny Light saved
Clevelanders over $195-million in utility bills, and two decades
later,
Kucinich was issued a commendation by the Cleveland City Council for
his
"courage and foresight."
He's a vegan. He rejects contributions from corporate entities. He
wants
to create a Department of Peace. His platform includes words quite
possibly never before used in one, like "holistic."
In short, he's the perfect candidate for seriously disenchanted
Democrats and those third-party members worried about splitting the
vote. Which means that, in a race about which every Democrat agrees
that
unseating Bush is Priority Alpha-One, unless he can rally every
disenfranchised voter in the country, he seems as likely to be
elected
President as Gumby.
Given Kucinich's platform, and that this shindig was set up through
online event-coordination enabler Meetup.com, the 15 folks who show
up
for this planning soiree constitute an astoundingly diverse group.
It's
official; everyone has e-mail.
The varied little cabal politely listens as secretary Andy Van
Cleave, a
26-year-old musician with a masters in microbiology, recaps their
last
meeting and lists the positions still looking to be filled. An
enthusiastic white-haired couple sporting Kucinich T-shirts applauds;
an
ardent WMNF-88.5 FM fan has brought her daughter. An amiable MC named
Jerry Mascari moves things along. The phrase "regime change" makes
repeated appearances. An aerospace engineer speaks, adeptly changing
soft notions into hard numbers to relatively disquieting effect and
noting that the local precincts guaranteed to be taken by Democrats
are
not enough, a gimme; the party must win new territory to turn the
tide.
As with every focused-interest meeting, time is split pretty equally
between preaching to the choir and emphasizing the need for bigger
numbers, unification, getting the word out. Basically, it's like
watching any fledgling ad hoc group, only with a little less idealism
and a lot more passion. They're aware they're not just swimming the
English Channel, but rather endeavoring to backstroke the Atlantic.
But,
hey, the map says there's a far side to this void, so let's get wet,
already. To an apolitical cynic, this should all come off as
unspeakably
boring. It doesn't.
God, I love a good underdog.
After an hour and a half or so of pointless Republican-bashing and
pointedly good ideas for getting Democrats together, another
get-together is scheduled for Sept. 23. The party begins to break up,
and I endeavor to find out why, when what the Democratic party needs
most is a candidate every single voter can get behind, these
wonderful,
motivated folks choose to back such a radical dark horse.
"I don't think there's anything radical about universal healthcare,
repealing the Patriot Act, withdrawing from NAFTA," says Van Cleave.
"What's radical about that? It seems more an issue of right and
wrong.
There are certain liberties this country was based on, and it doesn't
seem to be [nurturing them] right now.
"I'm just a regular guy who just started watching what's going on,"
he
continues, "and I'm diplomatically trying to inform people of this
candidate. And if he doesn't make it past the primary, I'd never
consider this wasted time."
"This isn't the country I grew up in. I don't consider myself a
liberal.
I was born during the Depression," says 71-year-old Barbara Nicholson
who, along with husband David, is among Kucinich's most ardent
supporters. "I'm sick and tired of all these conservative-liberal
semantics. We're for the good of the country, of the people."
"We'd rather have an election than an auction," says David,
unconsciously serving up the coolest bumper sticker ever. "Now that's
un-American."
This may not be the rally scene from Citizen Kane, but the energy
generated by this small group of like-minded individuals is both
palpable and infectious. Whatever their position on issues or party
affiliation, they've accepted a fact I've managed to avoid facing
since
I was old enough to drive, hold a job, pay taxes, and put off
registering for the draft until I thought somebody might actually
send
me to jail for it:
We don't have the option of not entering the crumbling old mansion.
We live there.
Hell, I might even vote next year.
Scott Harrell can be reached at 813-248-8888, ext. 109, or by e-mail
at
***@weeklyplanet.com.
--
______________________________________
Dennis Kucinich in 2004; The Antidote to Bush
http://kucinich.us
______________________________________
Dennis Kucinich in 2004; The Antidote to Bush
http://kucinich.us