Eight: On the Road to Fifty States
I most like campaigning in New England. Being a New Englander, I know die land, the towns, the history, the lore, and the life. Sure, the region has a few big cities and their sprawl, but in terms of sheer acreage and the number of distinct towns, New England has held on right into the twenty-first century. Places like Vermont, western Massachusetts, and Connecticut, the coastal towns, and the lake country still have the potential of recovering and enhancing their finest traditions with more local economies, local husbandry, and community self-reliance.
From Providence we drove to the Boston Commons, where a rally organized by high school students against the M-CAS standardized tests in Massachusetts and the looming privatization of public schools was· under way. From afar, one could think that those youngsters just didn't like tests. But these youngsters had done their homework. Created by consulting firms that saw the corporate management of public schools as a profitable objective, these tests appear to be designed to show that public education was not working .because so many students flunked. Experience in Texas with such manipulations led to high dropout rates for high school students under Governor Bush. This testing tyranny forces the schools to teach to the tests, which themselves are narrow-scoped and misleading yardsticks. There is plenty of evidence to show that behind these tests is a commercial ideology panting to take over more and more of the $320 billion spent annually on public schools.
A goodly number of high school students and their parents were planning to boycott these tests. I explained my support for the students, but unlike in Providence, the large Boston media rarely covers such rallies or citizen gatherings. Coverage is left to community papers or the large alternative weekly, the Boston Phoenix. Crossing the Charles in a hurry, we were late for an address at MIT arranged by Professor Jonathan King, a well-regarded microbiologist and civic activist on many fronts. He is in regular support of the M-CAS rebellion. King had a National Science Foundation grant to work with high school students on developing their scientific curiosity. Now, with pressure on teachers to produce good multiple-choice-test scores, he saw his program being shunted aside in favor of repeated classroom test preparation. He took us to a room at MIT where we met with the petitioners and members of the Green Party steering committee, which had the task of getting ten thousand verified signatures in order to get Our candidacy On the state bal1ot. They did.
***
That afternoon my remarks at MIT's Wong Auditorium included observations on technology and health, and academic science versus corporate science, with references to the struggle for auto safety, and the necessity for science to rein in a runaway biotechnology that is lacking both an ethical and a legal framework. I recounted a story from my law school days at Harvard when I was doing research on unsafe automobile designs and the law. In my innocence, I went to MIT looking for the department of automotive engineering, or a professor or even a graduate student researching auto safety. There was no one at arguably the leading engineering university in the Country. The motor vehicle transport system was only the largest engineering system in the land, and crashes on it were causing the fourth-largest category of fatalities in the country. Generating knowledge to nourish lifesaving policies and practices was not part of MIT's mission, certainly not when it conflicted with a major industry's practice, I suggested to the largely student audience. I asked them to reflect on what other contemporary deficiencies or corporate biases exist in MIT's Curriculum or research activities.
There was not much time for extended discussion because we had to motor to Concord, where Richard N. Goodwin was hosting a fund-raiser. It was a memorable drive, keeping in mind America's revolutionary history and driving over Concord Bridge as the sun was going down and spring was breaking out. Dick Goodwin -- special assistant to Presidents Kennedy and Johnson, author, and political strategist -- was a law school classmate. Although he continues to be a tough Democrat and receives invitations to the White House, nothing can compromise either his independent thinking or his unerring retention of the fundamental ends of politics in a democracy. Governor Clinton, running for the presidency in 1992, praised Goodwin's Promises to Keep as "an extraordinary and brilliant book." His message was an eloquent reminder of how America's promises to its people, rooted deeply in American history, have been stalled and even reversed by greed and corruption. Clinton as president promptly forgot this admired analysis. Years later, Goodwin summarized the Clinton administration as one where "to mention it is to accomplish it."
Our short-term objectives were threefold: to achieve ballot status in as many states as possible, to participate in the presidential debates, and to receive more than 5 percent of the popular vote. This meant that we had to conduct a fifty-state campaign to attract our hard-core votes and then spend more time in states, such as California and New York, where we expected to do well. They were challenging but reachable goals, and my New England tour that May generated the enthusiasm that we could do it.
The next morning we left Boston and journeyed by car to Dismas House in Worcester, an unusual alternative to incarceration, which had inmates and college students working together. This was followed by a speech and rally at Assumption College, a meeting with signature gatherers, and a news conference. If Worcester was uneventful, the Phillip Metropolitan Christian Methodist Episcopal Church common room in Hartford brought home the grim realities that African-American pastors connect with daily.
Six reverends belonging to the interdenominational Ministerial Alliance and members of the inner-city community gathered to convey their concerns and hear my views. Reporters were present. Hartford was not unknown to me. It was twenty-six miles from where r grew up. I practiced law there for a while after law school and taught a few courses at the University of Hartford. All this did not mean that I was familiar. with their Hartford -- now one of the poorest inner cities in the United States, suffering violent, drug-ridden, devastated schools, crumbling houses and tenements, high infant mortality, and a stunning asthma rate among black and Hispanic children reaching 40 percent. But as I stood by the church, one sight, one glimpse, caught the tale of two cities that is Connecticut's capital. There over the horizon rose the gleaming office buildings and hotels of the insurance companies, with their tens of billions of dollars in assets and their well-compensated executives, who at the end of the day leave for West Hartford, Simsbury, and other lovely suburbs west of the city. There also were the banks that for years found reasons to abandon low-income areas, redlining them into sure decay.
Inside the church, the pastors knew about the two Hartfords, but they had more immediate matters on their mind. They grilled me for forty-five minutes on what I would do about police brutality, racial profiling, economic development, health care, failing schools, drug use and crime, and the hopelessness and human tragedies they minister to day after day with compassion and very few resources. I regretted that Elizabeth Horton Sheff, the first elected African-American Green in the United States, was not present due to a previous commitment. In 1999 I campaigned for her election to the Hartford City Council, and her widely publicized battles to reform the city's schools were not forgotten by the voters who chose her. Ms. Scheff is one of those rare urban/civic warriors who are pure empiricism -- intensely focused on mobilizing and taking on the injustices with no detours. Therefore she is seen as an irritator. It would have been a fascinating, instructive mix of exchanges had she been at the church that afternoon.
I knew from their comments that the ministers were backing the Democrats, but they were under no illusions about any party making much of a difference. I reminded them the Democrats have run Hartford's city government for decades and asked what they had done with few exceptions beyond presiding over decay, kowtowing to the corporate powers that be, and sweet-talking folks like them. It seemed that my words made a connection, going well beyond political correctness, and they concluded the meeting by forming a prayer circle with hands clasped and prayed for our campaign and its sensibilities. How do they keep their spirits up? They simply have faith that someday their just causes will overcome. I took leave of them, thinking once again, as little children innocently scampered around us, just how far politics and its smugness have gone in our country.
In the late afternoon we joined the striking workers who were picketing the Avery Heights Retirement Community on busy New Britain Avenue. The moving circular picket line did not have much physical space to maneuver, but the spirit of the workers was uplifting. They knew that the chain owners of this retirement community were making big money and could well afford assuring their workers just rewards for their labors.
Hartford being a compact place, it did not take long to reach the fund-raiser for the Connecticut Greens at the Hartford Brewery. I wouldn't call it a happy hour, but when I entered, it certainly sounded like one. The Connecticut Greens have been among my favorites and not just because they hail from my home state. The Core of the party is small in number, but they are hardworking and choose important issues, like stopping the Patriots football deal, the living wage, the troubled and risky Millstone atomic power plants, the pitfalls of electricity deregulation, and numerous environmental damages. They keep a steady eye on the objective of building a progressive political movement by tapping into any and all potential supporters, organizers, or leaders. Warming up an already warmed-up crowd were Mike DeRosa and Tom Sevigny, both early founders of the state Green Party and both candidates for local office as well. I reviewed some of the Green Party's accomplishments and took to task Connecticut's two corporate senators, Democrats Chris Dodd -- the opponent of state civil justice systems who wants to diminish the rights and remedies of injured or defrauded plaintiffs -- and Joe Lieberman, who has not seen a weapons system, an insurance company, or a drug company he doesn't like. They both have nice smiles, though.
The Greens and I then went to the Hartford Public Library auditorium for the evening discussion, where cable TV and other press reporters were waiting. The place was packed and my polls were hovering around 10 percent in Connecticut. But I knew better than to count on all those votes because many people tend to get cold feet in the voting booth, regardless of other Connecticut polls showing Gore in a landslide.
The next day found me giving individual interviews with the New Haven press at Barrie's Booters. We then walked to the Yale Co-Op, which had been run and defended against encroaching chain bookstores by my Princeton classmate Harry Berkowitz, who met me with a campaign contribution. Speaking in a large bookstore is a bit disconcerting, what with the aisles and shelves and different angles making eye contact a kaleidoscopic sport, and I wasn't at my best that day -- the nature of the room, the kind of podium, the lighting all affect my delivery. I've heard many other speakers say the same. For instance, a high platform stage looking down on the audience really affects the audience's intangible response as well as the sense of feedback the speaker gets while the audience is listening. I like rooms where the speaker is on the same level or just slightly elevated. Not good at all are those medical school-type lecture halls that are built as if they were on a hillside.
With a smooth, rapid-fire Connecticut trip behind us, thanks to the Greens' Peter Ellner, that evening I found myself in New York at Paul Newman's apartment, where he graciously hosted a fundraiser. There seems to be no end to Newman's talents. At the top of his craft as an actor, he entered professional auto racing at the age when most racers complete their careers. He's a smart and effortlessly charming figure who was so steeped in military weapon policies that one would have felt sorry for Gore or Bush had either had to debate him. A longtime advocate of international arms control, Newman for years has taken this issue to television talk shows and the like.
A little earlier, I had spoken to his daughter Nell, who lives in California and is a leader in the organic food movement and critic of unlabeled genetically modified foods, which more than 90 percent of the American people want the government to label. Paul Newman was not turning Green. He was and still is a Democrat and has endured much evasion, cowardliness, and dissembling by Democratic politicians without splitting from the party. But he and his celebrated wife, Joanne Woodward, seemed to be near their limits and saw my candidacy as at least shaking up the stagnation of the Democrats and broadening the political debate on issues about which they cared deeply.
I stood by the piano before some forty people in their living room, and Newman started to introduce me. He recalled a Mike Nichols impersonation of Tennessee Williams as he is questioned by a reporter: "Tennessee, can you tell us something about your new play?" Tennessee replies, "Well, as the curtain rises, our heroine is being accused of many heinous crimes such as public fornication, sodomy, corruptions of minors, money laundering, and puttin' on airs." "So," says Newman, "Ralph is safe on this last charge." Everyone roared with laughter. Among the people present were Katrina vanden Heuvel, editor of The Nation; Russian specialist Professor Stephen Cohen; Victor Navasky; Dr. Warner Slack, the pioneer in computer medicine; Judith Vladeck, civil rights lawyer; Joan Claybrook; and Phil Donahue. They knew very well that basic changes were needed. What was on some of their minds, especially Victor Navasky's, was why I thought the pluses of a Green candidacy would not be canceled out by the risk of costing Gore a close election. Navasky and some others in the room would have liked Gore to win plus a significant Green Party turnout to push Democrats along a more active, progressive path. In addition, the composition of the future Supreme Court concerned them very much.
I described how bad the past twenty years have been for civic groups, how the Democrats chose not even to oppose Antonin Scalia. Indeed, every Democrat, including Senator Gore, voted for Scalia, who was confirmed by a vote of 98 to 0. When they had control of the Senate, the Democrats gave Clarence Thomas eleven decisive votes, in a 52-48 victory for President George Bush. My point: The Democrats, who are quick to say that these two justices are their least favorite, knew this going into the nomination process but did not have the fight in them that they had earlier displayed against Robert Bark and other rejected Republican nominees. Besides, who nominated Earl Warren, William Brennan, Harry Blackmun, John Paul Stevens, and David Souter? Republican presidents.
I mentioned another reason for running: the increasing reluctance of good people to become candidates for public office. This is more than an immense loss of talent. It leaves too much of the field to the rascals. I told them of a conversation I had with Gerry Spence, a trial lawyer of great skills and a prolific author from Wyoming. The Senate seat was open in 1996, following the retirement of Republican Alan Simpson.
"Gerry," I said, "why wouldn't you throw your hat into the Senate race?"
"Ralph, I am better known here than any politician," he replied. "But why would I want to do that? Who in his right mind would want to go into that pit?"
"But what an eloquent voice. Who can better communicate to the American people than you? You would be the conscience of the Senate."
"Ralph, listen. I'm sitting in my office and looking out at the Grand Tetons. I'm happy where I am now," he said.
"Gerry," I replied, "the country needs you. It's just that patriotically simple. There are too few champions of the people there. What if a few days from now I filled a truck with manure and in the middle of the night dumped it on your front lawn? Next morning you get up and see it there. Would you turn around, go to your study, and look out at the Grand Tetons? Or would you clean it up?"
"You bastard," he declared.
I could just as well have mentioned Phil Donahue as an example. Donahue is a man of conviction, daring, compassion, and enormous awareness of the need for society to exercise its First Amendment rights. For nearly thirty years, his national television show gave voice early and consistently to the grievances and the rights of women, minorities, workers, consumers, gays, lesbians, antiwar advocates, children, and the downtrodden. He had the Reverend Jerry Falwell on the show thirty times. In right-wing circles, it used to be said that you're more likely to get on the Donahue show if you loudly condemn and criticize him.
This was a great compliment to Phil's fervent belief that advancing free speech must include giving it to those you disagree with. Is there a better listener? Was there a better speech on the mass media than the one he gave at the Newseum in 1998? Well, I thought that Donahue could run for the U.S. Senate seat from Connecticut as an independent in 1998 and become a superb senator. We had a group of people urging him to do so. Senator Dodd was up for reelection, and one poll had a sizable percentage supporting his retirement. The Republicans were putting up a candidate they knew did not have a chance -- defeated Congressman Gary Franks. A three-way race would help Donahue win. Money would not have been a problem. Phil has honesty, character, and an unblemished record in a talk-show industry that swells heads. Name recognition was high. Imagine town meetings in just about every town in Connecticut, and he could be back home in Westport every night. Ten years ago, Donahue would openly say how he would like to be a senator someday. This time it was nothing doing. To Donahue and many other potential candidates, the political process had turned squalid, myopic, and beholden. His polite refusal further fueled my sense that those of us striving for a clean politics could no longer be on the sidelines and self-indulgently recoil from diving in to be members of the cleaning crew.
At Paul Newman's house that night, I had no inkling of how involved and important Phil Donahue would become later in our campaign. He was quiet at the fund-raiser, other than suggesting that I not neglect the many cable television news and interview shows that were satisfying a demand for political expression.
***
The next day we were in Concord, New Hampshire, with Dick Ryan of the Detroit News accompanying our party. Along with New Hampshire Green leaders to greet us was Richard Grossman, who has pioneered the rediscovery of American corporate charter history. Indefatigably, he has launched citizen committees of discussion and local action throughout the country, challenging the legitimacy of corporate sovereignty.
A spirited press conference in the lobby of the legislative building and a meeting with Green Party petitioners was followed by a brief address to the New Hampshire Senate. The senators were very cordial, and a few expressed their support as I was walking to the speaker's podium.
I decided to use my few minutes that day to speak about the unspeakable -- that the large corporation is the dominant institution in our society. This very assertion was made way back in 1959 by William Gossett, then a vice president of Ford Motor Company and later president of the American Bar Association. Forty-two years later, the global corporations have ascended to far greater power over our elections, government, workers, and consumers, including children, jamming commercialism into just about everywhere.
I mentioned how public budgets are being massively distorted by the proliferating array of taxpayer subsidies, giveaways, and bailouts (known as corporate welfare) to corporations. And I described how these transnational companies have no allegiance to any country or community other than to control them. Company executives have yearned for years for their company to be "anational" -- outside any national jurisdiction. While this literally has not yet transpired, corporate globalism is creating its autocratic systems of governance under the guise of global or regional trade agreements such as the World Trade Organization and NAFTA. Increasingly, these modes of governance that subordinate nontrade standards, such as consumer, environmental, and worker conditions, to the supremacy of international commerce, will avoid and thereby undermine local, state, and national sovereignties. All this I said quickly because I wanted to revisit some New England history with them.
In the early 1800s, Massachusetts began legislating charters for the nascent textile factories that created their corporate form of limited liability for their investors. These charters constituted tight rein, stipulating what the new company wanted to manufacture, the term limits of the charter, which was then up for review and renewal, and the public purposes -- standards -- incumbent on the company.
People in those days were wary of these artificial legal entities called corporations having too many privileges and immunities. There were vigorous debates in the legislature and other forums. When companies misbehaved, their creator -- the state government -- could and did revoke their charters. The attorney general of Ohio revoked the charter of Standard Oil Company of Ohio late in the nineteenth century. Then came the corporations' single greatest legal victory. In the case of Santa Clara v. Southern Pacific Railroad, the Supreme Court of the United States ruled, in 1886, without even being asked by counsel, that a corporation was a natural "person" for purposes of the equal protection clause of the Fourteenth Amendment. Today, the modern corporation has all the rights of real human beings, except for the Fifth Amendment right against self-incrimination, and all kinds of privileges and immunities that human beings do not or cannot have. Until we come to terms with this issue of "personhood" and the grave imbalances that follow, the warning of Supreme Court Justice Louis Brandeis in the 1930s about these big companies becoming Frankensteins in our midst will be more prescient than ever.
I don't think these lawmakers had ever heard such words. Some appeared thoughtful as they listened. Others were bemused, and still others -- probably hard-core corporatists themselves -- just wanted to resume their legislative business. Richard Grossman was standing in the back of the chamber listening. As I was leaving, I said to him, "Well, Richard, this must be the first time that any legislature has been spoken to about these issues of corporate charters .and personhood." He nodded knowingly.
On our way to Vermont, we stopped at Keene State College in Keene, New Hampshire, where I spoke to a gathering of local citizens. I emphasized local democracy and the need to resuscitate the town-meeting tradition -- possibly the most pristine form of democracy anywhere in the world today. I noted how large corporations, whose predecessors used to rip off consumers (monopolistic price-fixing and shoddy, unsafe products), now have expanded to take away tax dollars while they also become adroit tax escapees. Tax dollars were supposed to meet public needs -- like the public works, schools, medical research, parks, public safety, and the like -- that private enterprise was not interested in putting their investment capital into. Now, with their power, large companies, in direct and subtle, complex ways, siphon off large portions of the local, state, and public budgets via corporate welfare. Or as Ronald Reagan put it back in the mid-seventies -- by having their "hand in the trough." Only small business has the freedom to go bankrupt, I quipped. Green Parry materials were passed out, and I left for the Green Mountain state with a good feeling that basic populism was not contrary to the beliefs of conservative New Hampshire.
The next day we were in Burlington, Vermont. A noon press conference at the City Hall auditorium evoked the obvious question: Would Congressman Bernie Sanders, former Burlington mayor and now officially independent, support our candidacy? I said that Bernie's endorsement would be welcome, but they would have to ask him. Earlier in the campaign, however, Bernie had told me that while he sympathized and agreed with our pro-democracy agenda, he could not come out officially for us. The reason was that his modus vivendi with the House Democrats would be ruptured and he would lose much of his influence, including a possible subcommittee chair. Fair enough. He did agree to introduce me before an assembly that night at Montpelier High School.
But first there was a sit-down lunch at the Society of Friends building with Ruth Coniff, a reporter for The Progressive. Following this unaccustomed luxury, we met at two P.M. with the signature petitioners for their kickoff drive to get us on the ballot. These good citizens, like others of their avocation around the country, are the unsung heroes of third- party candidates. They are the rebuttals to the ugly collaboration between the Democrats and Republicans in state legislatures who do whatever they can to exclude competition. Some states are much worse than others. Little Vermont was in the modest barrier category, requiring only one thousand signatures for a presidential candidate.
The fund-raiser that followed at the home of environmentalist Crea Lintilhac was not much in terms of dollars, but made up for it with the dazzling presence of Vermont's activists of all ages and incomes. Of course, the location also helped to dazzle. Crea's home and the expansive landscapes around it are a splendid reminder of why people love to visit Vermont.
That sunny afternoon, the star of the show was Anthony Pollina, the gubernatorial candidate of the Vermont Progressive Party. Pollina was a longtime civic leader in Vermont, heading the Vermont Public Interest Research Group with illustrious results. He knew Vermont upside and downside. Taking the podium, he stated right off that his was a campaign to win, not just to make a few points. He quickly distinguished himself from Vermont's Democratic governor, Howard Dean, by listing the governor's positions and neglects and adding that Vermont's Democrats and independents would have been outraged at these same policies were Dean a Republican.
Pollina then launched into a concise, articulate description of what Vermont needs and what he would accomplish as governor. At the time, I said to myself, this is a real political comer. Pollina had it together. Moreover, Vermont's campaign finance reform law had just taken effect. This meant that Pollina would qualify for the maximum matching funds, which totaled just over $300,000. This brought the state toward a little more level playing field.
As the guests started to leave, I was so impressed with Pollina that I asked him to join me in Montpelier. He agreed to come, though I sensed a hesitancy, which was explained that evening. Driving through the bucolic countryside -- and it verily defined "bucolic" -- I made a call to Steve Yokich, the United Auto Workers' president, urging him to get the Democrats to give labor a better agenda in return for the UAW's probable endorsement of Gore.
When I arrived at the bustling high school auditorium, with its tables, volunteers, and incoming audience, Bernie Sanders took me aside and in grave tones expressed his concern at my having invited Pollina to speak with us. Clearly he was worried that the Democrats, who had agreed no longer to seriously challenge Bernie (with one exception in 1996), ·thereby sparing him a three-way race, would see his association with Pollina as a hostile act to their party and their governor.
I expressed surprise. "Bernie," I said, "Anthony was once your staff member, and there are no positions that I know where you are in disagreement."
He acknowledged that but repeated his displeasure nonetheless. Going up to the stage with Bernie, I thought to myself that an Independent should not have to worry about such matters. Bernie graciously introduced me and described our work together. But he left the stage and departed in the middle of my speech before I asked Pollina to come up and give his precise, factual stem-winder. He was a great hit with the crowd. There was very little time after the question and comment period to circulate with the Greens. It was late. We had to drive that night to Portland, Maine, which was nearly five hours away.
It was a fast-paced tour and I have to admit that I started counting down the states left.
***
Maine is one of two states -- the other being New Mexico -- where the Green Party first started getting the attention of the press and the dominant parties. This is in no small part due to the energy and intellect of John Rensenbrink, who, until retirement, taught politics at Bowdoin College. He came very early to Green politics in the eighties, converting or actively participating in its raucous· conferences and meetings and giving as good as he got. In 1997 he published his book Against All Odds, a history of the U.S. Green Party, with emphasis on its ecological and political reform stands. John is insistent, always exhorting people to surpass any of his own previous efforts. I visited Maine three times during the campaign, but that was not enough for him.
On this trip, following our daily press conference near Brunswick, we attended the Maine Green Party nominating convention at Noremega Hall in Bangor. I spoke for a few minutes and then Nancy Allen placed my name in nomination. In a field of three, I was voted their nominee. The Associated Press and MSNBC were there. Our numbers in the polls were still inching upward. What more could one ask?
The next morning we stopped for Sunday breakfast with a jam-packed crowd of Greens at the Mesa Verde restaurant in Portland. For nine A.M., these people were sure charged up. Two Green Party candidates for the state legislature, Derrick Grant and David Palmer, spoke about their first-time plunge into politics. I went over some local issues, reminding some of the old-timers of our book The Paper Plantation, which exposed the enormous power of the giant paper and pulp companies in Maine. These mills literally controlled and ran major rivers, and the struggle over the legendary Maine woods was still ongoing with rallies, statewide referenda, and lawsuits. If there was ever a state for the Greens to thrive in, it was the land of the Mainers.
That evening I stayed at the home of Herschl and Selma Sternlieb and discovered again what political campaigning finds -- talented, engaged citizens who hold up far more than their share of democratic society. A successful, semi-retired businessman, Mr. Sternlieb is a clear-eyed progressive moored in fundamental principles of candor, justice, and resolve. He is a satirist of both right-wingers and wobbly liberals, and you can't stop laughing at his myth-puncturing poetry and prose.
The next morning we were back in Washington. I went to the ABC studios to do a Webcast with Michael Oreskes, Washington bureau chief of the New York Times, and Josh Gurnstein of ABC News. No news organization wanted to be left behind in this new medium, though I have to ask if Webcasts are worthwhile. The next day I did a similar Web interview with MSNBC, and there were more upbeat assurances about audience size.
All the presidential and vice presidential candidates used the Internet with elaborate, heavily worked Web sites. They enthusiastically counted the millions of hits. They poured out notices and messages and got replies back. Millions of voters purportedly got more engaged in watching, reacting, and commenting on these campaigns. The Internet age, a hundred pundits predicted, would greatly change political campaigning and fund-raising. Well, it proved to be a very cheap fund-raising medium that encouraged small givers. But for increasing voter turnout -- another frequent prediction -- it was disappointing.
From virtual reality we set out for our West Coast journey that included Alaska and Hawaii-two states that major candidates treat as off-limits -- too far away, populations too small, and too politically predictable. But first we attended a fund-raiser held in Berkeley, thrown by my nephew Tarek Milleron's close friends Stacia Cronin, a pediatrician, and David Wilson, a home builder, wife and husband. Stacia and David, somewhat less than impressed with the major choices in the election, had generously offered their help to our campaign. Despite a few heated phone calls, the turnout for the fund-raiser was healthy indeed. The house, high in the Berkeley hills, was filled with professionals who would ordinarily be skeptical of Green politics and even a few of whom would ordinarily be voting Republican. Tarek introduced me, feeling at home in his hometown, and recounted memories of fielding the fly balls I used to hit to him when he was a kid. It was a stark contrast to the campaign we were now waging. Two years earlier, Tarek told me he would be with me in 2000 if I ran. Now he took time out from earning a graduate degree in tropical rainforest ecology to hit the campaign trail -- a different sort of jungle, to be sure.
The next morning, accompanied by reporters from Business Week and the Los Angeles Times, we flew to Portland, where I spoke at Portland State and met with the anti- sweatshop students who were incensed that Nike CEO Phil Knight had pulled the plug on a $30 million contribution promised the University of Oregon because of their protest. Then in rapid succession, a fund-raiser at Julie Lewis's home, which included a marvelous exchange with eighth graders, an editorial board meeting with the Portland Oregonian, and an address at the First Unitarian Church before leaving for Anchorage, landing there at eleven P.M.
We arrived late in Anchorage and groggily made our way the next morning to an event at Cyrano's Bookstore. I was amazed that the reporters, camera crews, and radio hosts managed to squeeze into the available room. The questions ranged over a multitude of Alaska matters, including oil, timber cutting in the Tongass Forest, and regulation of the fisheries.
The state is a quarry for raw materials extracted by American, British, and Japanese corporations with very little value-added industry. Alaskans were having to purchase imported finished products or fish that actually originated in their state. A far cry from Alaska's early Democratic and progressive years, the state is almost completely dominated by Republicans, as are most other low-population western states defaulted by the Democrats. The only exception is the kindly Democratic governor Tony Knowles, who tries hard to be a Republican on matters such as restrictions on tort law, overcatering to the oil companies, and openly voting for the Republican senator Ted Stevens.
I received good media coverage that evening and the next morning on the day's activities. From the news conference we joined a protest march outside a hospital by the self-help coalition Alaska Injured Workers. It was a beautiful warm day. Drivers passing by would honk their horns in support of the demonstrators. The insurance companies were bringing in physicians from outside the state who deny workers' compensation claims and then return to California or elsewhere. The stories told to me by the marchers were heartrending. Serious back, neck, knee, or other disabilities kept them from working but did not keep away the bill collectors. Even for most tort attorneys, the whole workers' compensation system is off their screen because the fixed fees are so small they cannot make much of a living representing these workers. Tens of thousands of workers are thus herded into a backwater of American law with meager benefits when their claims are accepted. Workers' comp lawyers call these payments a meat chart -- so much for a leg or an arm, with laws not permitting pain and suffering compensation.
During my campaign I spoke often about the avoidable violence of occupational deaths, injuries, and diseases from the factories, mines, and farms. According to OSHA, about fifty-eight thousand work-related fatalities occur in the United States every year. This figure exceeds by a considerable margin the number of fatalities on the highways and is almost four times the number of homicides in the United States. But these are not media- attracting casualties save for some collective tragedy such as a big coal mine collapse. The workers die in their beds, one by one, often from long-term exposure to toxic chemicals or lethal particulates. These losses are almost all preventable by the companies in charge. Yet this subject is almost never a campaign plank or a debatable condition of American life.
From the picket line we went to a fund-raiser for AKPIRG at the Snow City Cafe. The turnout was great, with old friends like Peter Gruenstein, Hugh Fleischman and Steve Conn present. The spirited response to a· great little citizen group heightened when I started to match dollar for dollar contributions beyond the ones made at the door.
This was followed by a full-length address before six hundred people, an impressive turnout, since it was Memorial Day weekend. I took the occasion to critically comment on the record of the two Republican senators and representatives from Alaska whose seniority had given these arch-reactionaries -- Ted Stevens, Frank Murkowski, and Don Young -- powerful chairmanships of key committees relating to public lands, energy, and appropriations. The once-dominant Democratic Party and the once-powerful Teamsters Union had both lost influence to the Republicans and the large oil and gas companies. I urged the audience to strive for a strong progressive movement in the state that would have considerable leverage to limit the damage done by their legislators in Congress. The Alaska Green Party, as it turned out, got Winona and me 10 percent of the vote, the highest percentage of any state.
Alaska is the trustee for a very large portion of America's natural resources, including fisheries, yet it receives a disproportionate amount of inattention from national environmental and other citizen groups -- not to mention the Democratic Party.
That night I thanked the Garas family for hosting us and got to the airport just in time for the flight to Seattle en route to Honolulu. It was, as I said, the Memorial Day weekend, but the Hawaii Greens succeeded in arranging a meeting of union representatives and environmental leaders on a Sunday. Following that, I did one-on-one interviews with reporters from the major Hawaii media that focused on these beautiful Pacific islands and their growing battle with air, water, and solid-waste pollution.
Hawaiians are very sensitive to the problem of "pollution in paradise" due to their reliance on the tourist industry. More than twenty-five years ago, I sent a young man, Davitt MacAteer, from West Virginia coal mine country, to Hawaii to shake up the complacency among the ruling classes. He spent a few weeks there and created an uproar that older Hawaiians remember to this day. Davitt's strategy was to send mass mailings to travel agencies on the mainland showing pictures of raw sewage being dumped into the Pacific not far from Waikiki. Not very appetizing fare for your average family vacation plans. Some of the raw sewage problems have since been taken care of, but judging by our public meeting with a couple hundred people that evening at the Harris United Methodist Church, the environment was very much on their minds. Folks were also hard-pressed by exorbitant prices for food and other necessities. Hawaii has long been beset with large importers who did not like competition. After all, this island for years was dominated by what was commonly referred to as the "Big Five" corporations -- AMFAC, C. Brewer, Alexander & Baldwin, Castle & Cooke, and Theo H. Davies & Co. Also present at the church were advocates of the Hawaiian native movement, which seeks a stronger cultural identity and autonomy.
The highlight of my visit to Hawaii was just outside of Honolulu on a large fenced-in lot. Inside was a small area of less than half an acre surrounded by barbed-wire fence and klieg lights. Our group included Woody Harrelson, the actor and Hawaii resident, and Dave Frankel, an attorney and industrial-hemp activist. As we approached the internal fence, we were greeted by Dr. Dave West, a plant geneticist, who was in charge of the only federal legally licensed plot to grow industrial hemp -- a long-fiber, versatile plant domesticated five thousand years ago by the Chinese.
When the Marijuana Tax Act of 1937 was passed, industrial hemp fell into the category of a similar prohibited product. It helped that the paper industry wanted this to happen because industrial-hemp producers would be an undesirable competitor. But the U.S. military used industrial hemp throughout the war effort ("Hemp for Victory" campaign) because of its strength in the manufacture of rope and such items as webbing in parachutes. Perhaps the best summary of the position held by President Clinton and his drug czar, retired General Barry McCaffrey, was that "industrial hemp is a stalking horse for marijuana." This comes as a surprise to agronomists who know that industrial hemp, at one-third of one percent of THC (the psychotropic component), would cross-pollinate and dilute any nearby plot of marijuana. Moreover, both General McCaffrey and Bill Clinton could smoke (even inhale) a bushel of industrial hemp every day and nor get high.
So there I was walking toward a clump of the "dreaded" industrial-hemp plants, which Hawaiian state and legislative officials and the University of Hawaii had urged the Clinton administration to allow as an experiment to test varieties of industrial hemp. They all saw a potential multibillion-dollar industry emerging in the United States, which would increase the income of many hard-pressed farmers. Like their counterparts in numerous other states, such as Kentucky, North Dakota, and Wisconsin, they could not understand why it was legal to import industrial hemp from France, China, Romania, and recently Canada, but it was illegal to grow the crop in the United States. They also agreed with former CIA chief James Woolsey that industrial hemp could reduce our reliance on imported oil and was a national security plus.
Back to the tour, where Dr. West patiently explained how this industrial-hemp experiment had resulted in lots of paperwork .and incessant reports to Washington. For example? I asked. Well, he said, the other day some birds flew over the barbed wire and ate some hemp seeds. He had to report this. I asked whether the birds flew away in a shaky fashion. He said of course not.
Woody Harrelson, months earlier, had gone to Kentucky and announced that he was going to plant some industrial-hemp seeds. He was immediately arrested. In late 2000 a court threw his case out, but his civil disobedience generated quite a bit of publicity and public attention to the cause of legalizing industrial hemp. I told him how I once spoke to two dozen midlevel employees of the U.S. Department of Agriculture and asked if anyone believed industrial hemp should continue to be banned. Not one person raised his or her hand.
Little did I realize standing by that industrial-hemp plot the extent to which the Clinton regime would go in its war on this issue. Five thousand miles away on the impoverished Pine Ridge Indian reservation in South Dakota, Alex White Plume was carefully and openly cultivating industrial hemp plants, which had grown to ten feet in height. Two years earlier, the Oglala Sioux tribal council had passed an ordinance reviving the legal distinction between industrial hemp and marijuana to encourage what tribal members called "land-based economic development." They knew that there would be a legal challenge by the federal government to both the ordinance and tribal sovereignty in federal court. But what they never anticipated was what happened on the hot early-summer morning of August 24, 2000.
About twenty-five federal law enforcement officials from the DEA, FBI, and the U.S. Marshall Service, wearing bulletproof vests, in twelve vehicles, two airplanes, and a helicopter, swooped down on this isolated land north of Wounded Knee. They carried automatic weapons and large Weed Eaters that were instantly turned on the tall plants. More than two thousand plants were chopped down or uprooted.
White Plume watched the raid in a state of shock, later telling a reporter from the Lakota Nation Journal, "This crop was going to be the beginning of our future, we followed all the criteria of the tribal legislation, we were totally open with everyone." The DEA agents were friendly, he said, revealing that they had gotten some leaves from his crop earlier and tested them and found they were below 1 percent THC content. Meanwhile, a few hundred miles to the north, Canadian farmers stood ready to legally export their industrial hemp to the Sioux or anyone else in the United States who wanted to buy it.
I'm going into some detail here because our campaign believed that industrial-hemp growth has great environmental consequences, eliminating the need for chemicals such as chlorine and lots of dangerous byproducts like dioxin associated with cotton and other fibers and fuels. But this issue also pointed out in the clearest fashion how hard it is to break through with a new proposal in a presidential campaign. Not one national reporter, to our knowledge, wrote about our detailed position on industrial hemp except AP's Eyn Kyung Kim, covering our press conference in Washington after the Pine Ridge raid. Not one reporter ever asked Bush or Gore about industrial hemp -- a product that millions of Americans and the nation's farmers want to be grown in the United States.
On short notice I had a quick lunch with Governor Ben Cayetano. He is my favorite of all incumbent governors. Without much organized citizen support, he, more than the other state chiefs, stands up for workers and consumers when companies overreach or bully them. For years he has taken on the rapacious auto insurance companies, often against a hostile legislature controlled by his own conservative Democratic Party. When I mentioned Clinton's recent announcement on restoring Hawaii's reefs, Governor Cayetano shrugged and said, "Just talk."
We also broke some bread with the pride of Hawaii's Greens -- the compelling Keiko Bonk, who, having been elected to the Big Island's council, was running for mayor. Polls had her leading the race and she was causing the Democrats real concern. Although she did not win in November, she'll be back.
Woody Harrelson must have noticed how sleepless we looked after days on the road. So he and his wife, Laura Louie, invited us to join their family for an excellent Thai dinner. Since I can count on two hands the number of leisurely, sit-down dinners we had on the road, this dinner was a godsend. Afterward the Harrelsons gave me a handsome industrial-hemp shirt, which I am wearing right now as I write. Woody said I could wear the shirt but I could never wear it out. We'll see how it resists on the elbows.
Back -- to the mainland and Los Angeles. A few press interviews and then over to the beach at Santa Monica, where in full view of the tourist hotels, I joined a living-wage rally with hotel workers, labor leaders, and members of the Santa Monica City Council, including Kevin McKeown and Michael Feinstein, who that election year became one of five Green mayors in California.
A major fund-raiser was planned that evening at the home of Betty and Stanley Sheinbaum. We expected to raise about thirty thousand dollars -- a big deal for our campaign. When we arrived there around six, the living room and outside terrace were already full with many friends, including Leo and Sherry Frutnkin and Lila Garrett, and newcomers who were curious to hear what I had to say. The Sheinbaums were not endorsing the campaign. They were longtime real Democrats upset with the direction of their party, for which they had raised millions of dollars. Stanley is an institutional economist of the old school and a dedicated public citizen. He has had a major supervisory role on an official commission looking into the behavior of the Los Angeles Police Department and for years has spent much time working for an Israeli-Palestinian peace settlement. I asked Pat Caddell to say a few words, and he delivered an impassioned indictment of the Democratic Party. This descendant of Democrats who had held high elective office listed one betrayal after another by the Clinton administration and the Democratic Leadership Council. A party that for now is beyond redemption, he declared. Whatever I had to say about the Democratic Party was an anticlimax, so I stressed the pro- democracy message and the many improvements in our country that were being held down by business lobbies and their political servants. We need a new progressive political movement to change the dynamics and expectations of politics in America, to push the major parties in the direction of renewal and revival, or begin to replace them. I emphasized the defensive collapse of the Democrats who were making a habit of losing to the right wing of the Republican Party in both state and federal elections. Some listeners voiced their concern about the Greens costing Gore the election. I told them again that it was Gore's election to lose.