At two very different political gatherings, Democrats and grassroots progressives spit venom at Dubya, curse Enron and lament the state of education. One wants to change the system. The other is content to make changes within the system. They both struggle to make the leap from thought into action.
Stories by Mitch E. Perry, Rochelle Renford and Scott Harrell
People Power
More than 6,200 people turn out for Ralph Nader's traveling road show and progressive bazaar at the University of South Florida.
By Mitch E. Perry
One of the biggest gatherings of progressives in recent Tampa history convened April 13 at the Sun Dome on the University of South Florida's main campus in Tampa to hear how empowered citizens can make a difference.
The Ralph Nader-led People Over Profits tour, spawned from the activist icon's rallies during his 2000 Green Party presidential campaign, arrived in the Bay area with an assortment of national speakers and musicians and was greeted by dozens of local and statewide civic groups.
The night was organized by Democracy Rising, the latest of the more than 40 activist organizations that Nader has helped create in nearly four decades of social activism. This stop on the tour was intended to connect local citizens with national organizations and to build alliances.
On another level, speakers indulged in some spirited George W. Bush-bashing, not exactly regular fare in the times we live in.
A concourse inside the Sun Dome resembled a crowded Berkeley street bazaar. People stood jam-packed 90 minutes before the main event, taking time to look at outreach tables on a variety of issues.
With more than 100 groups present, people could sign petitions imploring Gov. Jeb Bush to declare a moratorium on the death penalty or demanding that the Tampa City Council bring back public recycling drop-off centers. They could record a television message on their first activist event for a Pinellas County cable-access program or merely collect literature, which in the case of animal rights groups was plentiful.
One of the volunteer organizations that helped create the event was the USF Greens, a college chapter of the national Green Party. University students from throughout Florida and other twentysomethings made up a significant portion of the crowd.
A 20-year-old Lakeland woman, who identified herself only as Natalie, said she voted for Libertarian presidential candidate Harry Brown in 2000. But she said she came to learn more about the Green Party.
She said she has little use for discussions that Ralph Nader was a "spoiler" two years ago. "I don't think enough people know about alternative parties because of the two-party system," she said. "Ralph Nader was shut out of the debates, which was crap. That stopped a lot of people from knowing more about him and the Greens."
Chris Morris, 22, of Winter Park, said the Democratic Party doesn't speak for him. "Democrats are bastards, just Republicans in suits," said Morris. "Nader is the face that everybody equates with the Green Party."
But are the Greens capable of making actual electoral inroads?
Herbert Reagan of Largo said he voted for Nader in 1996 and 2000, echoing the Green Party line that there's no difference between Republicans and Democrats. But Reagan acknowledged that "making a dent in the process is the operative word. … Everybody says (the Greens) have no chance of winning. But it's the message that's important."
Medea Benjamin is one Green candidate who did receive a lot of votes — nearly 100,000 in an unsuccessful bid to topple Dianne Feinstein in a 2000 U.S. Senate race in California.
Fresh from a trip to Afghanistan with her San Francisco-based human rights group Global Exchange, Benjamin gave what she called a six-month review of Bush's War on Terror. She handed out failing grades.
Next up was Jello Biafra, former frontman for the punk band Dead Kennedys, who stressed the evening's theme. "Doing something is better than doing nothing," said Biafra. "Always."
Biafra admitted to being so disgusted with the political process at one point in his life that he went on "vote strike." Later, he realized that didn't make things any better.
He added that his favorite pastime is voting against sports stadiums. Biafra called St. Petersburg's Tropicana Field, which Pinellas voters weren't given a chance to reject at the polls, "that giant reproduction of a diaper pail occupying the skyline while the town around it is left to decay and rot."
Although Al Gore made national headlines in Orlando for finally speaking out against President Bush, criticizing the commander-in-chief has become a source of commercial success for social critic Michael Moore.
Moore has turned the aphorism that liberals are preachy and humorless upside down and continues it with his latest book. Four weeks atop The New York Times' best-seller list, Moore's Stupid White Men was never intended to reach the public after Sept. 11.
Of course, it has, and the rest is current history. Buoyed by that success, Moore criticized Democrats for their timidity in opposing Bush, whose approval ratings have stayed at nearly 80 percent for more than seven months.
Saying it was great to be near the headquarters of U.S. Central Command, Moore had much of the 6,200-plus in attendance laughing, standing and cheering with his comments on Bush, Katherine Harris and the 2000 presidential election debacle in Florida.
Moore said the Democrats should be pressing for an independent counsel to look into the Enron scandal. Praising hard-line conservatives for their intensity, Moore asked: "Where are the Democrats?
"I would love to see a Democratic leader stand up for something! You gotta admire conservatives. They wake up in the morning and believe it. They're up at the crack of dawn trying to figure out how to screw the poor. We never see the crack of dawn, unless we're just going to sleep."
Following a performance by Patti Smith and Her Band, Nader finally appeared. Like many a classic rock music festival, considerable energy had been expended by the time the headliner reached the stage.
Though noted for his Fidel Castro-length speeches, Nader kept his to a still-too-lengthy 80 minutes. It was classic Nader: informative, occasionally witty and always incisive. But it couldn't match Moore's for audience impact.
Nader talked about civic values vs. corporate commercial values, and how Americans have never been properly taught how to practice democracy. He barely touched on the war in Afghanistan or the Middle East, instead laying waste to trade agreements and Defense Department policies.
Empowerment was his theme of the evening.
Lamenting the wasted hours that Americans spend watching television, Nader said: "Imagine a guy knocks on your door tomorrow and tells you: "Hi, I'm your new neighbor. I have the power to send your children to war, raise your taxes and expose you to toxic chemicals. See you later.' What would you say? Would you say: "Whattaya doing? I'm watching the latest rerun of Cheers.' Or would you say: "Hey, come back here. You obviously mean a lot to me. So I better start meaning something to you.' That's your member of Congress."
Moore best summarized what Democracy Rising organizers are hoping to achieve: "If just five of you left here and did something incredible and raised a ruckus, think about what that can do, what can you do. Don't depend on the Ralph Naders and the Michael Moores. You gotta start your own Web sites and 'zines, and pirate radio stations. You gotta just do something. Don't go to meetings, and jabber away for four hours. That turns everybody off. No meetings should last longer than an episode of Friends. Don't count on us. It has to happen here."
Contact WMNF Assistant News Director Mitch E. Perry at mitch@wmnf.org.
Too Old and Too Centered
Florida Democrats stay the middle ground and middle-aged course at an election-year convention in Orlando.
By Rochelle Renford
At Friday night’s reception for gubernatorial candidate Bill McBride, a cover band sang Gloria Gaynor’s “I Will Survive” as two 60-ish people did the kind of dancing that requires contact with your partner and doesn’t simulate sex. “Jungle Boogie” got everybody on the floor flopping around. And Kool and the Gang’s “Celebration” was a hit with the crowd. As the music suggests, people under the age of 40 were in short supply at the recent Democratic State Party Conference. Sure, there were some. There were high school students getting their first taste of political life and clean-cut college students who represented their schools’ Democratic contingent. However, there were virtually none of the nouveau hippie, Birkenstock-wearing liberals who have been making the news, protesting the status quo and calling for a new peace movement. It seems that the Democrats are losing their ultra-liberal faction to the Greens and other progressives. Casey Roberts, 22, attended the convention as a volunteer and exemplified the clean-cut youth. He’s an active member of the Democratic Party. Roberts served as a field director during the 2000 presidential election and has his eye on a Charlotte County Commission seat. If he wins, he’ll be the youngest commissioner ever elected in his county. In the crowd of middle-aged delegates, Roberts stood out. There is an absence of youth, not just in the Democratic Party but in party politics in general, he said. “If there wasn’t an absence of youth, Al Gore would be president,” said Roberts. One of the ways to attract more youth, according to Roberts, is to have younger party members running for — and winning — public office. “If they see someone their own age and with their green attitudes, they’ll get more involved,” he said. Right now education is the hot issue for Democrats, said Roberts. It’s an important issue to voters, and Jeb Bush’s record is weak, in spite of his election campaign promise to be the “education governor.” Since Bush has been in the governor’s mansion, education spending has increased by a paltry two cents a student, adjusted for inflation. Florida languishes at 42nd in the country in education spending. “It embarrasses me to say that one day my child will be a product of the Florida school system,” said Roberts. “We need to revamp the whole system.” Roberts noted that Ralph Nader was someone who appeals to kids his age. Still, Roberts was not subtle in his distaste for Nader. “I think he’s a phony and I think he’s a weakling for the liberal cause,” he said. Nader, said Roberts, acted as a spoiler, taking away critical votes from the party that’s most aligned with his ideals. His motivation was his ego and not the good of the people, Roberts said. “For him to stay in the race knowing damn well he cost Al Gore the election was wrong,” Roberts fumed. “Nader caused the recession, whether he acknowledges it or not.” During the regular session on Saturday, where party candidates gave 10-minute speeches touting their good works and pointing out Republican foibles, there was little mention of the issues that get progressives riled up. There was rhetoric criticizing the Bush administration for labeling dissenters as unpatriotic. However, few addressed the issues that brought out the patriot police in the first place. There was little talk of the Middle East, no talk of the evil axis and no talk about bombing in Afghanistan. U.S. Sen. John Edwards of North Carolina was the only speaker to mention Afghanistan at all, and he spoke only of the Republicans’ dislike of nation building. Edwards pointed out that the peacekeeping forces are stationed around Kabul while the rest of Afghanistan seems to be sinking into chaos. Anti-Bush protesters who were arrested last year during a presidential speech at Legends Field in Tampa were brought to the stage and applauded. But they didn’t get to speak on what inspired them to protest. Continuing the oldies jukebox theme of the convention, Tampa Congressman Jim Davis began his speech by having the audience spell out the word “respect,” Aretha Franklin-style. The crowd was energized but not much new was said. Nicole Fotovat, 22, is president of the College Democrats at University of South Florida and interned for state Rep. Sara Romeo of Lutz. Fotovat was aware that the numbers of people her age involved in the party are not what they could be. But she’s not sure that Nader or a third party is the answer. “Nader’s all like, ‘Screw capitalism, let’s be all apathetic and not care about the parties and not care about the future,’” Fotovat said. “I’m a little bit bitter,” she admitted. “All we needed was just a little help in the last election and I cannot forget what he could have done to help.” It riles Fotovat that Nader spread his view that there are no real differences between the Democrats and the Republicans. “There are fundamental differences, especially when it comes to social issues,” she said. Although Naderites pride themselves on protesting the establishment, they don’t seem to notice that they’re not the only ones willing to make some noise for their cause, said Fotovat. “The Nader people are never at the protests I do,” she said, “where I’m saying to Jeb Bush that he sucks right to his face.” Fotovat was among the One Florida protesters who swarmed the state Capitol Jan. 2000 and inspired Bush’s famous request that his staff “kick their asses out.” Beneath her anger, Fotovat has respect for Nader’s ideas. She just doesn’t think he can push his agenda ahead. “It’s very unrealistic,” said Fotovat. “I almost think it’s like, ‘Hey, if you vote for me, I’ll give you a free puppy.’” Being an effective consumer advocate is not the same as being an effective leader, she said. Democratic leaders could bring in more youth if they talked about some of the issues that affect them directly, said Fotovat. There was a lot of talk at the convention about improving public education but no mention of cutting the cost of higher education by making more grant money available or developing more Clinton-type programs to give students ways to work off student loans. The main session also didn’t hit on topics like gay rights, foreign policy issues or corporate control of the political system, said Fotovat. The Democrats did criticize Republicans, of course, telling Enron jokes and accusing them of being controlled by lobbyists and corporate interests. However, speakers said nothing about the Enron money that wound up in Democratic coffers and no admission that Democrats also respond to corporate interests and lobbyists. The denial of guilt is frustrating to Fotovat. Even though she’s a dedicated Democrat, some of that frustration boiled over during the conference. “I screamed ‘fuck you’ at Dodd,” Fotovat said of U.S. Sen. Christopher Dodd of Connecticut, a convention speaker. “A few times.” Dodd’s crime? Being one of the Ashcroft 8, the eight Senate Democrats who supported Bush’s appointment of John Ashcroft as attorney general. The Green Party may provide motivation but they don’t provide a vehicle to really get things done, she said. People can mobilize but in order to legislate change, you need a legislator. Fotovat does think progressive issues, like government-funded campaigns are a good idea, but she’s not thumbing her nose at campaign finance reform, she said. It’s not going to fix every ill but so far it’s more than the Greens have been able to do, she said. Fotovat said she is a Democrat not because she believes wholeheartedly in every word of the party line but because she believes it’s the party that can move the country closer to where she thinks it should be. “You see something that can work,” she said. “A party that has good goals and ideas. I’m going to work to make this party better.” If the Democrats have lost some idealistic youth to more progressive groups, Bill McBride is in denial. He contends that it’s not the party that fails to attract young people; it’s politics in general. “It’s hard to get young people under 25 involved in politics,” McBride said. Tell that to Nike, Taco Bell and the World Trade Organization. Students Against Sweatshops forced Nike to change its business practices, and the Coalition of Immokalee Workers mounted a campaign against Taco Bell that could earn them the right to bargain collectively with their big agriculture bosses. And while the WTO is clearly still doing business as usual, youth from around the world are making their displeasure felt and dominating the press with their protests. That’s not party politics, but there’s no question that it’s political activity. Young people get involved when issues they care about are at stake. Democratic National Chairman Terry McAuliffe understands that. “It’s a big deal for us to get young people in the party so that at the next convention there’ll be a lot more of them,” said McAuliffe. The party is kicking off its Every Vote Counts campaign in New York this month with an MTV-style concert, including Michael Jackson, k.d. lang and Bill Clinton playing the sax. Party leaders will discuss issues that resonate with the youth and try to draw more young people to register to vote. Not too long ago, being a liberal meant being a Democrat. Now there’s another choice in the Green Party, where there’s an opportunity to build a political party from the ground up that fights for liberal causes. The Greens may not have a president for quite some time. But if the Democrats can’t rediscover their liberal roots, they may not have one either. Contact Staff Writer Rochelle Renford at 813-248-8888, ext. 163, or rochelle.renford @weeklyplanet.com.
A View From the Sidelines
A political innocent gets a taste of party politics and, well, parties at the Democratic state convention
By Scott Harrell
I'm about as learned and interested in politics as I am in gravity. For me, it's a huge, mysterious force governing my actions in some fundamental way of which I am barely conscious. When it makes an impact on my life directly and negatively, I shake my fist and curse at the sky. Then I shrug my shoulders and go on with my day. Attending last weekend's Democratic party convention in Orlando was a lot like being a date at a large, middle-class wedding. A few interesting eccentrics are sprinkled among the disconcertingly mundane throng.
The guests tend to gather in cliques, chiefly for the purpose of talking shit about other guests, though pledges of unity are routinely made and the tone is largely cordial. Attention is paid to the honorees at prescribed moments. The bar is always cash, as opposed to open. And you go in thinking that you'll excuse yourself at the earliest opportunity.
At various points, however, you find yourself relating to these strangers and having a good time. So you hang around until, once again, the first law of social interaction rings true — that things never really get cooking until the end, when the sun goes down and everybody gets a couple of drinks in 'em.
Friday, April 12
8:45 p.m.
The initial impression that no one here is under 50 soon proves misleading. There are actually several dozen folks in their mid 30s to late 40s, though the odds of finding a delegate or volunteer younger than, say, Johnny Depp look pretty slim tonight. The atmosphere at the Wyndham Palace is friendly, if a bit tight. A quick perusal of the schedule finds receptions for both Janet Reno and Tampa's Bill McBride in progress.
9:15 p.m. McBride's soiree seems oddly formal; the crowd would doubtless deem the cover band's light '70s funk hits appropriately edgy. None of the few bikers or gay couples currently at the conference is in attendance. Blazers and Dockers and Topsiders, oh my. One cannot just buy a $5 bottle of beer at convention events. In an astute miniature parallel to our nation's political process, one must exit the banquet room, track down a ticket-seller and buy a $5 ticket for a $5 bottle of beer, only to return to the banquet room and exchange the $5 ticket for a $5 bottle of beer.
9:30 p.m. The Reno reception sports a smaller gathering, but one that's more varied, unrestrained and vocal. Here, the recurring snack motif of fruit chunks pinned by toothpicks to trees of stacked pineapples is introduced. The International Union of Painters and Associated Trades has come out in force to support the former U.S. attorney general, who makes an appearance between sets by a folky three-piece and is raucously greeted. With an enviable cross-section of Florida citizens going bonkers at her every word, the widespread notion that she hasn't got a realistic shot at the mansion feels a bit like underestimation.
10:10 p.m. In gubernatorial candidate Daryl Jones' hospitality suite, he's surrounded not by zealous constituents and aides, but by family and true believers. The feel is warm, even homey, a recharging zone for the state senator and those truly close to him, his most earnest supporters.
"He's the only person I can envision as governor," says volunteer Amy Skelton, whose mother met Jones when he stayed at her bed and breakfast long before throwing his hat into the ring. "I've never been involved in a campaign before, but this state needs him so badly. He has integrity."
Skelton attributes Jones' lower profile to the fact that he's been working in the Senate while other candidates have been campaigning. But she believes that if he makes it past the primary, "Jeb doesn't stand a chance."
10:40 p.m. Elevator small talk consists of Republican jokes and epithets regarding the operation of the elevator itself. Visions of bad '80s stand-up comedians in skinny ties standing in front of fake brick walls spring unavoidably to mind. The doors part to reveal almost-empty hallways. Bartenders tear down stations. Couples trickle into other elevators and out toward the parking lot. The expectation of something even remotely intriguing occurring drops to nil. Where'd we park the car?
Saturday, April 139:45 a.m. Like every halfway ambitious event, the 2002 Florida Democratic Party State Convention has a merch booth. A merch mall, actually, offering everything from rhinestone-festooned donkey brooches to canvas shopping bags that proclaim "My Dog Never Met a "Bush' He Didn't Like." A bumper sticker asserts that Jesus is, in fact, a liberal. Mary Stanley, who has set up shop on behalf of the National Women's Political Caucus at various political to-dos for more than 21 years (and who can hook you up with a T-shirt that says "I Only Sleep With Democrats"), says she's doing fairly brisk business so far this weekend. Anyone looking for a shirt picturing George W. holding a book titled Presidency for Dummies (Simplified Edition) need look no further.
10:05 a.m. Also like every halfway ambitious event, the conference's morning general session is running about 40 minutes behind. Last night's meager turnout has swelled exponentially, and most attendees are making an attempt to see at least one well-known 'crat speak. Florida Democratic Chairman Bob Poe whips the crowd into a minor frenzy between speeches, and premieres a somewhat tacky anti-Jeb video montage that, stunningly, makes use of both Pink Floyd's "Money" and EMF's "Unbelievable" as relevant soundtrackage.
House Minority Leader Lois Frankel takes the stage to a sampled "Let's get ready to RUMBLE!" and proves an earnest, outspoken orator. U.S. Sen. Bob Graham receives a hero's welcome. John Edwards, the junior U.S. senator from North Carolina, gives great charisma.
All in all, the morning session gives off a strong whiff of pep-rally boosterism. Everybody thinks the Democrats can win the game by improving education, taxing the wealthy, sticking up for the environment and, most importantly, uniting to get Jeb the hell out of office. But nobody's really outlining plays, you know?
11:45 a.m. A regal, white-haired woman in an elegant red blouse and floor-length skirt glides by. She is poised and sophisticated, and has a "McBride for Governor" sticker plastered to her forehead.
12:15 p.m. Hiding in a bathroom stall with the hope of hearing shady politicos engaged in questionable dealings proves fruitless, beyond recording various comments regarding Al Gore's recent penchant for facial hair.
12:25 p.m. The former vice president, freshly shorn of his beard, finally closes out the morning session. He's obviously been watching videos of his past appearances and asking himself what the hell he was thinking. Gone is the robot-on-Xanax presence of the Gore of yore, replaced by a sweating, emphatic model of conviction whose voice cracks with exertion at moments. The man is a stump-thumping dynamo, and his segment sends those in the crowd who had written him off into paroxysms of speculation.
1 p.m. A person in a full-on duck suit and wearing a sign that reads "Reno and McBride — Stop DUCKing the Issues" waddles through the conference, flanked by two security guards. Friendly, flaky, flamboyant left-field gubernatorial candidate Bob Kunst is immediately suspected by some as the mastermind behind the stunt.
1:30 p.m. Mind-frazzling indecision over which obscure, numbing special-interest caucus to attend leads to near-total sensory breakdown. McBride shirts currently outnumber Reno shirts almost three-to-one, and the conference's eclecticism reaches its peak.
4:45 p.m. Attorney general candidate Scott Maddox's parking-lot tailgate party is winding down. A dozen or so attendees line up beside his RV for picnic-style vittles; the Maddox volunteers seem a little bummed about the turnout.
In the big room, Janet Reno is closing out the general assembly's afternoon session. The crowd has dwindled appreciably since the morning session, but is again more vocal, erupting into a frenzy just short of mosh-pit status every time she pauses for a breath.
5:15 p.m. "I have nothing to do with it," says Bob Kunst of the duck stunt.
6:00 p.m. Further investigation reveals the mallard is a tool of Republicans. It seems they're holding their own press conference in 15 minutes at a hotel next door, where Florida GOP Chairman Al Cardenas will proclaim what any perceptive voter should already know: Most of the high-profile Democratic candidates haven't yet outlined any specific plans regarding exactly how they're going to accomplish their goals.
6:30 p.m. The Republican hotel is farther than it looks. In the Ascot Room of the Grovesnor hotel, Cardenas and Lt. Gov. Frank Brogan wax ecstatic on Republican accomplishments for three reporters and two aides. Cardenas has a bus ticket he'd like to present to actor Alec Baldwin, who will shortly speak for Democratic diners at the Wyndham. Before the 2000 presidential election, Baldwin said that he would leave the country if George W. Bush won.
8 p.m. Alec Baldwin arrives at the Democratic conference's fundraising dinner and is affectionately accosted by scores of middle-aged women. No duck appears to run the gauntlet of photographers and shove a Greyhound ticket in his face.
9 p.m. A pair of Renophiles hit the dance floor downstairs at the Wyndham's Laughing Kookaburra bar. They've got a sort of chorus line/new wave/Latin jazz-hands thing going on. The house band is, naturally, abominable.
10 p.m. State Senate hopeful Charles Kalogianis' hospitality-suite shindig is swinging. Folks clamor to be photographed with his life-size cutout and have trouble recognizing the real thing. Anthony Pawlisz, who's running for Hillsborough County commissioner against incumbent newsmaker Ronda Storms, wants a fictional serial killer how-to manual removed from school library shelves. Dunedin teacher Kyle Rush is campaigning for Clearwater's District 50 and takes great photos. A woman from American Family Values works the press.
10:30 p.m. A bartender at the Wyndham's lobby bar is all for improving education in Florida.
"We're ranked, like, 53rd," he notes.
10:50 p.m. An intoxicated female Democrat makes sarcastic with Alec Baldwin as he tries to extricate himself from yet another throng of middle-aged women. She comments disparagingly on his hair and build before the actor manages to catch the closing elevator doors with one expensive shoe and escape.
11 p.m. It all comes together at state Sen. Kendrick Meek's reception downstairs. Schism and inhibition are shrugged off as everyone starts moving to the DJ. Pundits, volunteers, aides, delegates and their kids come together on the dance floor. Frankel cuts a rug with Meek. Baldwin nods his head in time with the music. Reno busts a move or three. McBride shows up around midnight with a smile. Hugs, handshakes and dancing ensue with gusto. Tomorrow, everyone who's still around will return to the rhetoric of politics and the dilemma of party unification. But tonight, everybody seems pretty damn unified. The wedding analogy is driven home more forcefully than at any other time during the course of the weekend; at the end of the party, grudges and schisms seem less important than enjoying the sense of family.
12:15 a.m. Upstairs, a couple of insiders are blue-skying: "Do you think you could get us Billy Joel and Elton John for Atlanta?"
Music critic and features writer Scott Harrell can be reached at 813-248-8888, ext. 109, or at scott.harrell@weeklyplanet.com.
This article appears in Apr 17-23, 2002.