Attending an Election Watch Party

Fifty years ago, on Election Day, while living in San Francisco, in what turned out to be a short stay, I was sitting in my room. It was five o’clock in the afternoon. The sun was still bright and the voting in California would go on another three hours.

But by my calculation—not hard to arrive at—it was 8 p.m. EST and the polls in the eastern half of the United States had closed or would soon. I decided to turn on the radio and find out how the results were going. To refresh your memory or offer an historical fact if you weren’t around in 1972, the Republican incumbent Richard Nixon was running for re-election. Challenging him was South Dakota senator and Democratic Party nominee, George McGovern.

Over to next couple of hours I listened as state after state was called in Nixon’s favor, with Massachusetts being the lone exception. Eventually, California would be added to his column. The Silent Majority—as Nixon had called them in his ’68 campaign—had spoken loud and clear with a resounding “No!” to those opposed to American involvement in the Vietnam War, who pushed civil rights on the legislative front, and sought social and economic justice in an aggressive fashion—causes which McGovern had given voice to with his candidacy.

Nixon was winning a monumental landslide—both in the popular and electoral count. He who had cut his teeth on red baiting and scorched-earth rhetoric during the McCarthy Era, who had employed the Southern Strategy that gave tacit support to White grievance towards Civil Rights measures to help win the ’68 vote—a strategy that would eventually turn the Deep South from a Democratic Party bastion to a Republican stronghold—and who had continued and even expanded the Vietnam War to include neighboring countries in that region.

When McGovern finally appeared to concede the election, he used a line that he attributed to Lincoln: “It hurts too much to laugh, and I’m too old to cry.”

I wrote that line in my notebook, which I still have, along with some lyrics from a Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young song.

“This much madness is too much sadness…you be on my side, I’ll be on yours, together we might get away… she could drag me over the rainbow and send me away.”

Well, there was no ‘she’ to get away with at that time or place. But poetry, whether from a song or read on the printed page, can provide solace in dark times. Of course, those were not dark times for most of my fellow citizens, just for me and others who were like-minded. We were a distinct minority, it seemed.

Scott Fitzgerald famously said “There are no second acts in America.” Presumably, he was talking about the fact that novelists, as he was, did not get another chance to reach the lofty heights of fame and fortune once they fall from grace or self-destruct—the kind of popularity he had experienced as a young writer, but no longer did.

Well, I had begun as a writer (an aspiring one I should add) and a political activist—both activities starting off in that ’68 campaign. Now, four years later (a long time when you’re young) I was experiencing disillusionment. The war was still going on, a backlash had occurred on social-justice causes, and the momentum I thought was occurring had crashed against the rocks of status quo thoughts and institutions, not to mention a hostile resistance.

I never returned to political activism, as in joining a political party or working on behalf of a candidate, but I did continue writing and my second act was this long career as a newspaper reporter and commentator.

Which on this recent 2022 Election Night found me, accompanied by my wife, at the election watch party being held for Congresswoman Elissa Slotkin, the Democratic candidate for the new 7th mid-Michigan Congressional District. I had RSVPed as a member of the media, not because I actually needed to cover the event in a timely manner. As a weekly newspaper with a Thursday afternoon deadline, I had plenty of time to get the results and obtain any comments from the candidate that I wanted. The media for these events are the TV news stations and daily newspapers.

But I’d seen these ‘watch’ parties over the years while sitting at home on Election Night, those brief glimpses when the TV reporter gave an update at the candidate’s headquarters, and thought it would be interesting to observe one in person. Enjoy the atmosphere.

I wouldn’t have gone, though, except for the fact that the event was being held in East Lansing—less than 15 miles from our home. Also, Slotkin—who I’d covered on several occasions when she made stops in Fowlerville—was in a hotly-contested race with State Senator Tom Barrett, the Republican standard bearer. Their race, which had possible implications on which party controlled the U.S. House, had gained national attention, with a ton of money being spent to sway both the undecided and independent-minded voters. So much money that it was being called the “most expensive House race in the nation.”

Unfortunately, none of that money trickled down to me in the form of a newspaper ad. But it’s been a long time since Congressional candidates spent money on promoting themselves in a weekly newspaper. TV, social media, and mass mailings are the preferred choices for those dollars.

I had looked at Barrett’s email, sent to the media, on that campaign’s Election Night plans. I wanted to be ‘fair and balanced’ if I could. But their watch party was at a Downtown Lansing office building and the email included an explanation that their gathering of supporters would be private, confined to invited guests, with the media instructed to set up in the lobby. The message added that campaign staff would come down periodically to make a statement.

Hardly the ambiance I was looking for. I wanted to rub elbows with the supporters, not be confined to a press bullpen. I imagined wandering around the room, perhaps chatting with a few people, watching the TV media in action, and hear the candidate when a statement was made.

I also figured there’d be a cash bar where I could buy a beer or two, or maybe more, while I did my investigative reporting. After all, it was being billed as ‘a party.’

And that’s what happened.

However, I did not show up merely to enjoy the event, though I did. Rather, I wanted to see in a first-hand manner if the bipartisan approach employed by Slotkin, albeit done to further the cause of social progress and economic fairness, would be supported in this part of Michigan where I’ve lived nearly all of my life and where I’ve published a newspaper for close to 40 years.

As a reporter, you attempt to tell what is going on as accurately and impartially as possible, giving the opposing sides a chance to state their case. But as a commentator, you can put forth certain viewpoints, champion causes that you feel improve the human condition (close to home or in general), and, as best you can, further the light of knowledge and expand the realm of compassion and tolerance.

There are political candidates that align with my guiding star and those that do not. There is a wide swath of the populace who I agree with on many policies and share an overarching philosophy in dealing with political, social and cultural matters and a broad group that has a differing preference and outlook. How that is hashed out is called governance and is part and parcel to democratic self-rule.

That hashing out has become increasingly difficult, though, with the process under duress.

I have mentioned in previous columns about “the center not holding” and the decline of civil discourse. And about the demonizing of political opponents and the scapegoating of those who are characterized as different due to their race, ethnic origin, or sexual preference (a pair of strategies that have a long history).

As I left the party, I thought how 50 years have gone by since my sitting in that room in San Francisco, listening to the election coverage. While there has certainly been progress, for every flow there seems to have been an ebb and for every seemingly positive development a fierce resistance. And the advancing years have given me the realization that what I regard as progress and a positive development is not judged that way by others.

There is a danger to viewing things only from our personal perspective, particularly when accompanied by a hostility towards contrary vantage points—although not all views are worthy of such empathy The danger lies in having an endless tug-of-war without resolution.

When I arose this morning, Slotkin had won re-election. The expected red wave of victories did not materialize for the Republicans, neither in Michigan nor many other parts of the nation. In addition, the three statewide ballot proposals were approved, including the Reproductive Freedom Initiative.

So for the time being, and with this election, the voting majority in the state and in this Congressional district have chosen a certain direction.

Fortunately, I was not at the election watch party when this news became known, since I’d have been surrounded by jubilant supporters. As a member of the media, whatever my leanings, I’m well aware there are other gatherings, other groups of activists who would be feeling disappointed and dejected.

They well might write in their notebook “This much madness is too much sadness” and look for someone to “send them over the rainbow.”

The work at hand, said Lincoln,  is “to mend the wounds”—a symbolic way of saying we need to find common ground and shared purpose. A bipartisan approach. Or, at least, try.

Such attempt and approach might not be possible, or even welcomed. The center has and can fall apart. But as a commentator or public official, it seems a better cause.

Steve Horton is a mid-Michigan journalist and editor-publisher of the Fowlerville News & Views.