Although I don’t remember it, my mother always said she’d wheeled me around Springfield, Massachusetts, in my stroller while knocking on doors for Senator John F. Kennedy’s 1960 presidential campaign. Whether it was then or later, at some point I got the bug, and have been fascinated by presidential elections since long before I was old enough to vote. In fact I still have vivid memories of the first campaign I volunteered on myself—working the phones (I was still too young to drive) and canvassing for George McGovern in Memphis, Tennessee, in 1972. (When I phoned the Shelby County Democratic Party that spring they asked if I wouldn’t rather volunteer for Hubert Humphrey or Ed Muskie. After I insisted they agreed to put me in touch with the McGovern people. At the first meeting there were just five of us—and one was the friend who had driven me.)
So when Katrina vanden Heuvel, my boss at the Nation, asked me what I wanted to write about after we’d finished our very pleasant collaboration on the magazine’s 150th anniversary issue in 2015, I decided to push my luck. To my great delight she not only agreed to let me cover the election, sending me to all the early primary states and most of the debates, but then kept me on what she called the “insurgency beat” after November 2016, reporting on the people and movements who were working not just to resist Trump, but to move the country forward. That reporting, beginning in August 2015 and still ongoing nearly two years after Election Day, is the basis for the book you have just read. I thank her not just for her encouragement and enthusiasm, and her friendship, but for her deep engagement with the topic, and the countless e-mails, phone calls, and Skype conversations that guided my coverage.
Dan Simon, my editor at Seven Stories, understood what this book should be about even before I did. It was Dan who, gently but implacably, turned me away from the campaign book I thought I wanted to write toward something that looked forward instead of backward. Throughout he has been a first-rate intellectual provocateur, a patient and meticulous reader, and a hard taskmaster when it came to meeting a very tight deadline. I’m deeply grateful to him for all of those things, and for his energy and enthusiasm. I’ve also benefitted enormously from the eagle eye and deft pencil of Lauren Hooker and the contagious enthusiasm of Ruth Weiner and Silvia Stramenga, also at Seven Stories.
My agent, Andrew Wylie, has stuck with me through four books and over twenty-five years. This book demanded unusual persistence, so I’m particularly thankful to Andrew, Jin Auh, and Jessica Friedman for their support.
The people profiled in this book live very busy lives, and I am indebted to each of them for taking the time to meet with me, to talk at length, and for patiently answering my many follow-up questions by phone or e-mail. Some have become good friends, and I look forward to continuing the conversation with all of them in the years to come.
At the Nation my editor, Richard Kim, was intellectually exigent, stylistically meticulous, and remarkably tolerant of my neuroses. Every piece I published in the magazine was improved by his editing, and much of the thinking behind this book was shaped by our conversations. My colleagues Joan Walsh and John Nichols were always generous with opinions and advice and contacts; George Zornick and Julianne Hing made even the Republican Convention fun. Emily Douglas and Annie Shields took copy at absurdly late hours. Sandy McCroskey repeatedly saved me from solecism.
My comrade Steve Cobble conducted a one-man seminar throughout the 2016 campaign that immeasurably deepened my understanding of election strategy and political movements—and the relationship between the two. Winnie Wong, one of the founders of People for Bernie, patiently explained the significance of Donald Trump’s Facebook metrics to a net-non-native; she also invited me back to the People’s Summit in Chicago, where I first met some of the people profiled in this book. Claire Sandberg, Becky Bond, and Zack Exley have been remarkably tolerant of my ignorance about the mechanics of distributed organizing, and generous with their insights. My Philadelphia landsman, Larry Cohen, the former head of Labor for Bernie and current chair of Our Revolution, has always been candid, and (crucially for a reporter) available. I’ve learned a lot talking to him and to his colleague Rand Wilson.
I’ve admired Dan Cantor of the Working Families Party for as long as I’ve known him—since we were both undergraduates. He and Bob Master understood—and explained—the complex, at times abusive, relationship between the Democratic Party and progressive movements better than anyone else I’ve met. Bill Lipton and Joe Dinkin, also of the WFP, have always been generous with their time and their insights, for which I am grateful.
My debts to Staughton Lynd and Eric Foner go far beyond the endnotes—though I hope those suggest the extent to which I relied on their work. Staughton and Jane Lynd gave me a lovely lunch and a lively briefing on the Ohio economy, but his book on the intellectual origins of American radicalism, which I only read after we met, came as a revelation. Lynd’s exclusion from the academy since the 1960s—tantamount to blacklisting—is not only a huge loss to the historical profession, but also an enduring stain on American intellectual life. Eric Foner, happily, remains one of the ornaments of American intellectual life, as well as a friend and mentor. I cherish his friendship, but am even more grateful for his work, which illuminates the politics of the Civil War and Reconstruction with wit, clarity, and passion.
My travels around the country were made not only pleasant but possible thanks to Don Share and Jacqueline Pope, who put me up in Chicago; Larry Friedman and Randi Mozenter, who did the same in St. Louis; Sid and Jill Holt, likewise in Old Salem, New York, and Peter Cariani, Becky Heaton, Brent Cochran, Angela Raffel, and Karen Cariani, who always made my passages through Boston a delight. Albert Scardino put me up in Beaufort, South Carolina, fed me oysters, and enlightened me about the politics not only of that state but of his native Georgia as well. Makani Themba provided wise counsel and generous introductions in Jackson; Sofia Jawed-Wessel and Megan Hunt were splendid guides to Omaha. Dave Leshtz and Jeffrey Cox not only initiated me into the mysteries of the Iowa Caucuses; they also planted ideas that continue to bear fruit long after we met. Jeff Klein provided a crucial assist in Buffalo. Arguing politics with Rick MacArthur—something we’ve been doing since our days on the Columbia Spectator—sharpened my thinking.
My dear friends Rosemary Moore and Josh Shneider and Tom Mellins and Judy Weinstein made me feel at home, and taken care of, on frequent stays in Brooklyn and Manhattan. Since all work etc. . . . I also thank Nanci Levine and Joel Sanders for always finding time to play on my visits to New York.
If my reporting skews a bit east, that may be because I have a daughter in New York and a home in Vermont. Besides keeping the Nation’s travel expenses down, this also meant I was able to try out some of the ideas in this book last fall at a benefit for Kopkind, the summer residency program for journalists, filmmakers, and community organizers down the road in Guilford. Begun as a memorial to our beloved neighbor Andy Kopkind, the great radical journalist, Kopkind continues to exemplify Andy’s pessimism of the intellect and his optimism of the will—as well as his fondness for good food and brilliant company. I’m grateful to JoAnn Wypijewski for inviting me, and John Scagliotti for years of gentle provocations across the kitchen table. Also to Verandah Porche, David Hall, Harry Saxman, Sue Lederer, Eric and Dale Morse, Richard Wizansky, Todd Mandel, Susan Bonthron, and Gilbert Ruff for always welcoming me home.
In London my friends Sally Angel, Erin Cotter, Sarah Dunant, Jonathan Freedland, Ben Freedman, Maurice Glasman, Jonny Levy, Sue Prevezer, and Gillian Slovo have repeatedly forgiven my absences, for which I thank them all.
My travels over the last few years have meant that my wife, Maria Margaronis, had to hold the fort at the Nation’s London bureau, which she has done with her usual grace, while also making a series of brilliant radio documentaries for the BBC. I thank her for being so understanding about my work, and for the inspiration provided by her own. I look forward to being home a bit more in the coming months.
Finally I am more grateful than I can say to our children, Alexander, Zoe, and Theo, for filling the years with such deep pleasure, and for growing up into such delightful adults who no longer need to be driven to school every day. As Greek-Jewish-British-Americans, they belong to many cultures and can pick and choose as they like. But insofar as they are interested in America, I hope they find these pages useful in understanding their father’s country, which is also, in part, their country too.