Skip to main contentIt's 10:30 on Tuesday night, and it appears that George W. Bush will remain the leader of the free world--if NBC is to be believed. While many Oregonians will be distraught at the news, we're still caught up in the most energized election of the past century. That can be measured not only by the turnout, which in Portland was well on its way to breaking records, but also by the passion--hell, the lather--that has bathed all of us in the past few weeks. To capture the frenzy of what has been called the most crucial election of modern times, we sent our staff into the streets--to election headquarters, bars, hotel ballrooms, get-out-the-vote van fleets, libraries and union headquarters--to tap into the fervor of Nov. 2. From 6:15 am until the printers ripped the copy out of our hands late Tuesday night, here are our dispatches from Portland's democratic combat zone.
6:15 am--ACT HQ, Northeast Sandy Boulevard
Outside the command center of America Coming Together, the independent group that is the core of the liberal get-out-the-vote effort, a fleet of 15-passenger vans stands ready for the scores of bleary-eyed volunteers gathering signs and clipboards inside.
In the back room of the dingy, fluorescent-lit warehouse space, volunteers stack black plastic ballot boxes that will be dropped off at library branches. "People are going to libraries on their way to work, expecting to be able to vote, and some of them won't open 'til noon," says a woman handing out ballot receipts and assignments. "Don't handle the ballots," she says to volunteers. "Give them receipts. We'll have runners at all the locations to bring in the boxes when they're full--runners, you have to be 100 feet away from the door, so we're giving you strings that are 102 feet long."
6:41 am--Multnomah County Elections Office, Southeast 10th Avenue and Morrison Street
Sixteen voters are already lined up outside Multnomah County's election headquarters, while inside, county elections director John Kauffman, his left arm in a sling, huddles with two dark-suited observers from rival parties. Gray ballot-scanning machines stand ready to count hundreds of boxes of ballots already cast.
7:57 am--Democratic HQ, East Burnside Street and 29th Avenue
About 30 Kerry partisans are crammed around cluttered tables in the Dems' local nerve center. Several more stand outside talking on cell phones, despite the onset of rain. The get-out-the-vote push is on, but for many volunteers, the battle for Oregon is already over. Instead, they're using their own cell phones to dial into the country's most heated precincts. Phone scripts aimed at voters in Ohio and Florida make the rounds.
"Hi there, good morning," says one woman. "I'm calling you from the state of Oregon today reminding you to vote and help send John Kerry to the White House."
8:02 am--GOP HQ, Southeast 7th Avenue and Belmont Street
Tucker Bounds, one of the GOP's local spokesmen, says the party's office is likely to be a ghost town all day. "Everyone's gonna be in the field," he says. "Right now it's all about ground game--because what else can you do?"
9:22 am--Albina Library, 3605 NE 15th Ave.
Youth Librarian Jane Corry looks up from her copy of The New Gardener as another rain-soaked voter puddle-jumps his way toward the library's ballot box. Although the branch doesn't officially open until noon, she and other librarians are taking turns minding the box, stationed in the branch's chilly open entryway. "People used to just slip their ballots in the library's book drop," Corry says. "But this year we've been getting calls from people worried about security."
9:33 am--Multnomah County Elections Office
Mayoral candidate Jim Francesconi arrives at the county elections office with his wife and son to cast his ballot in front of a few television cameras. Down 30 points to Tom Potter in the polls with the majority of city ballots already cast, Francesconi can't muster much of a smile as he wanders over to deposit his ballot in a gray Rubbermaid container on the sidewalk. "Jim!" yells a campaign adviser. "Get back with your family!" Francesconi walks back, places an arm around his wife, and gives it a second take for the photo-op.
10:25 am--ACT HQ
Scott Ballo, the tall, husky Oregon Democratic Party veteran who runs ACT's Portland operations, insists that the rain won't dent the unprecedented effort to push city voters to the polls. "It's cold and wet and miserable, but our plans haven't changed," Ballo says. "Almost two-thirds of the city has voted already, and that's great, but we're going to keep our foot down until this thing is over and see if we can't shatter that 86.5 percent record." Another volunteer, Tom Wolcott, is coordinating ACT's fleet of vans, waiting for calls from the field with reports of accidents or breakdowns. "I feel like I already know the outcome," he says. "I'm not saying I actually do, but I have a good feeling."
10:45 am--Multnomah County GOP HQ
Tim Trickey, a tall lanky Republican Party spokesman, immediately makes it clear that the press isn't welcome. Or at least some press. "I don't want to go on the record with Willamette Week. In fact, I had to run your photographer out earlier," Trickey says. "I don't regard you guys as legitimate press."
11:12 am--Northeast 9th Avenue and Davis Street, Democratic Party offices
Things are frenetic at the warehouse where Democratic Party volunteers dial from phone banks set up on makeshift tables. They've been calling East Coast states since 6 am. Corin Tucker from the rock band Sleater-Kinney is here, as is City Council hopeful Nick Fish, who stands in the warehouse ready to roll to his Kerry canvassing assignment. "I have a very good feeling about tonight," he says.
11:15 am--Multnomah County Elections Office
"We hit 70 percent!" county elections director John Kauffman exclaims, dodging boxes of ballots as he scurries through the main hall. Given that the polls won't close for 8 hours and 45 minutes, turnout will easily bust the 78 percent mark of four years ago. Behind a security window, under the watchful eye of sheriff's deputies and outside observers, the seven counting machines are humming along as workers feed stacks of ballots into the mechanical maw. The machines will tally ballots all day, but the first report won't be posted until 8 pm.
11:25 am--City Hall
Judy Tuttle, Vera Katz's chief of staff, brings in a large bouquet and sets it in front of the mayor. "That's so sweet," says Katz, while pointing out, "I'm still mayor until Dec. 31, 11:59 pm!"
11:37 am--Northwest Glisan Street and 3rd Avenue
Outside Old Town's Blanchet House, homeless Portlanders form a line waiting for their free lunch. Inside, wearing a black apron and plastic gloves, Jim Francesconi and other volunteers serve beef stroganoff, with corn on the cob, bananas and salad. There's no campaign staff--just the mayoral hopeful quietly placing trays in front of the diners. On the radio, Stevie Nicks of Fleetwood Mac sings "Landslide," a song Francesconi's not interested in hearing right now. "Looks good, guys," he yells back to the cooks in the kitchen. "When are we having Italian?"
12:11 pm--Southeast 39th Avenue and Hawthorne Boulevard
Under a rainbow umbrella, Tom Potter grins and waves at passing cars. He's standing next to a telephone pole decorated with a band flyer for the Meat Shits that features a winking naked woman in repose. Despite his mammoth lead over Francesconi, Potter refuses to make any predictions. "This is the part I enjoy," he says. "It's all the debates that weren't any fun."
12:15 pm--Multnomah County Elections Office
The heart of the electoral process is the "green room," a cavernous chamber in the basement of the elections building, where 30 "boards" inspect every ballot. Each board consists of four members, including at least one Democrat and one Republican. The boards open the security envelopes and look at the ballots. If a voter marked her ballot in red ink, for example, or botched an erasure, the board "enhances" the ballot with white stickers and graphite pencils to make sure the scanner can read it. This delicate job is entrusted to an army of $9-an-hour temporary workers--most of whom are seniors. "The atmosphere is kind of like a bingo hall," says county spokesman Eric Sample.
Observers must stand behind yellow-black tape--employees call it the "yellow brick road"--several yards from most of the boards. Republican observer Pamela Burback is craning her neck to take a look at Board 25, where there seems to be some dispute. Burback carries a clipboard and keeps a tally of the ballots that have been enhanced. "If we see a precinct with a lot of enhancements compared to the others, we can flag that," she explains. The disputed ballot turns out to be blank--no marks whatsoever--and the board discards it.
12:30--Southeast 39th Avenue and Division Street
Sam Adams and four loyalists wave signs, greeting drivers and passersby. A car drives by and veers close enough to the gutter to spray the whole entourage. "That wasn't an accident," one of the aides mutters. They discuss plans to head to the bridges and then HQ to dry off and write a speech for tonight before going back out. "Two versions," Adams says, a nod to his tight City Council race with Nick Fish.
12:40--Food Court, Pioneer Place
Following stops at both the Democratic HQ and Pioneer Courthouse Square, U.S. Sen. Ron Wyden takes a few minutes out of his Election Day for a quick bite with his children, Adam, 20, and Lilly, 15, as well as the rest of his campaign staff. Wyden's crew is chewed out for bringing a political sign inside the Food Court--a big no-no, according to mall security.
1:02 pm--St. Johns
Nick Fish is in a silver Subaru station wagon, visiting Democratic voters who hadn't voted as of Saturday. His companions are Steve and Lata Pimplaskar, a New Jersey couple volunteering for Kerry on their Portland vacation. Fish and the Pimplaskars run into a group of canvassers from the League of Conservation Voters who are using a similar list. "Are you using the Saturday list?" Fish asks. "No, we've got the Sunday list," they respond. They agree to divide and conquer, and proceed with the canvassing.
1:16 pm--Washington County Democratic HQ, Beaverton
Red and Blue Oregon coexist on Beaverton's Southeast Millikan Way, where the Washington County Democrats and Republicans are housed in adjacent warehouse spaces. Just after lunch, U.S. Rep. Earl Blumenauer, chairman of Carry Oregon, strides into the Dems' space to encourage volunteer phone-bankers, many of whom slept in the building to make early calls to the East Coast. "Just a few more hours and we can all head to the Convention Center for a party," says Blumenauer, who holds a Halloween mask bearing the visage of President Bush. "You are all making a tremendous difference." As Blumenauer rattles off statistics about voter turnout, U.S. Rep. David Wu shakes hands and works the room, high-fiving a toddler, who greets Wu with a grin that suggests the kid hasn't seen any of Goli Ameri's attack ads.
1:45 pm--Washington County GOP HQ, Beaverton
Across an alley from the donkey stable, in a spick-and-span former sheriff's office, Republicans clad in matching red sweatshirts quietly go about their business. The atmosphere's somber here--there's no leftover Halloween candy or tables full of free junk food here--and workers regard a reporter suspiciously when he asks for a Goli Ameri interview. "You're not authorized to be on these premises," says a young GOP-er.
3:10 pm--Metro HQ, Northeast Grand Avenue
Former Gov. John Kitzhaber, wearing his forever-in-blue-jeans-and-blazer uniform (now with the addition of moccasins instead of cowboy boots), has just finished talking natural-resource politics with the tri-county planning agency. "I don't want to say it doesn't matter who's elected president--it does," he says, offering a political forecast as dreary as the day's weather. "But tackling big national issues requires the courage to act on behalf of the common good, and I don't see that happening on either side of the aisle."
3:57 pm--Interstate 84 Eastbound
Just as the light begins to fail, a pack of damp but enthusiastic foes of gay marriage are stationed on the overpass bridge to the Hollywood MAX station, jumping up and down in support of Measure 36.
4:01 pm--Southeast Portland
"A baby makes a fabulous prop," Lisa Allen says as she steers her green minivan toward Southeast Morrison Street, en route to deliver sugar and coffee-cup lids to the No on 36-League of Women Voters team stationed at the county elections office. "People can't be mean to you when you're carrying a baby." Allen is canvassing neighborhoods for the No on 36 campaign with her husband, Randy Foster, and their 11-month-old daughter, Nadia. "I see this is our generation's civil-rights battle," says the new mom, whose family only recently moved to Oregon. "To tell you the truth, I'll be a little sad when this campaign is over. I feel welcomed into this community."
4:13 pm--Roseway
ACT staffers Katie Stem and Courtney Gould are cruising the streets of this Northeast Portland neighborhood bisected by Cully Boulevard. They've been out for 11 hours on a get-out-the-vote crusade. Their white van steers down streets of ranch-style houses and trailer parks, cell phones and dispatch radios chattering, as the crew attempts to harvest another handful of votes. In half an hour, they collect three ballots--including one so dog-eared it looks like a household pet mauled it--and arrange rides to Multnomah County Elections Office for two fugitive voters. "Every ballot we get at this point is a vote that wouldn't have been cast otherwise," Stem says. "Gore won in 2000 by about one vote per precinct. We're in two precincts right now, and we've gotten more than that."
4:23 pm, KGW-TV Control Room, a.k.a. B Booth
"We got him!" shouts executive producer Sally Ramirez. She's standing in front of a wall of TV screens in KGW's control room. John Kerry's face is on one screen, Sen. Gordon Smith's on another, as well as a handful of KGW reporters waiting for their standups. Assignment editor Joe Arndt has hounded the Democratic presidential candidate's people for four months, and all that work has led to this: a one-on-one satellite interview on Election Day with one man who just might be president. "Kerry's in one minute," Ramirez says. "Tell Vince to stretch or we are going to lose him. Check his microphone. Standby cue. We are hot!" Smiles break out in the room as Tracy Barry and Joe Donlon ask the candidate, live from Boston, how he was spending Election Day. "I'm still campaigning," Kerry says, and the newsroom remains hot as they pester the candidate with question after question until losing the satellite signal.
5:23 pm--Multnomah County Elections Office
The glow of tail lights heads down Southeast 11th Avenue like a swarm of fireflies, and the line of people waiting to pick up ballots because they never got them in the mail, or because of some other glitch, now stretches two blocks. An enterprising Domino's pizza boy finds several takers for his $7 pepperoni and cheese pies. The line includes a lot of young voters, brandishing cell phones, coffee cups and cigarettes. Among them is Teresa Dulce, a sex-worker advocate and stripper who is heading to work at Dino's after casting her ballot--an evening she characterizes as "an all-American experience."
5:27 pm--City Hall
In the mayor's reception area, a dozen staffers watch live TV election coverage. Mayor Katz walks in, a half-hour late from a hastily scheduled blood transfusion in preparation for the next round of chemotherapy. "Hey, little lady, how you feeling?" says the receptionist, then suddenly turns sad--"Oh, no!"--as she reads the answer in the mayor's weary, dejected face. The mayor slumps in a chair. "We have so much to do, I don't even know where to begin," she says, while staffers monitor election returns and she starts plowing through papers. "I'm not sure I can even explain the feelings I have," she says." A little bit of emptiness...."
6:30 pm--RiverPlace Hotel
After getting her chestnut bob cut at River's Edge, state Sen. Kate Brown has hit the road with one mantra: "Get to 16." She's a shoo-in for her own re-election but has spent the fall trying to help a handful of Democratic candidates break a 15-15 tie in the state Senate. If her party takes control, Brown could become the first woman Senate president in Oregon history. Right now, however, she's thinking about the U.S. presidency. In the hotel elevator, she runs into Gov. Ted Kulongoski. "Is our guy winning?" she asks. The guv is optimistic. "I was on KEX, and I said yes, he had won by 300 votes," says Kulongoski. "I mean, why make it close?"
6:42 pm--Multnomah County Elections Office
A flock of ACT activists in red ponchos stands across the street on Belmont. They're chanting, "Whose street? Our street!," punctuated with "Na na na na, na na na naaaa...hey, heeey, goooood-bye." John Kauffman, the county election director, is clutching a copy of the county election regulations. He's talking to Democratic lawyers. He's concerned that they are standing too close to the voters, and he's concerned about electioneering. He asks them not to talk to anyone in line. A county election worker asks a lawyer, "Are you with the press?"
"No," he replies.
"Can I help you?"
"No."
"Well, just don't talk to anyone."
7:03 pm--Democratic HQ
Phone bankers are donning green-and-yellow plastic leis and dialing Hawaii, focusing on small cities. "Are we supposed to say, 'Aloha'?" one woman yells out. "Only if you think you can pull it off without sounding condescending," a coordinator replies.
7:25 pm--Oregon Public Employees Union, 214 SE 18th Ave.
Tim Nesbitt sits in a windowless room rattling off an amazing array of statistics about union participation. Ninety percent of union households will vote in this election; volunteers visited more than 82,000 union households; and, having called every union household in Oregon, Nesbitt's troops spent the afternoon placing calls to Wisconsin, Missouri and Nevada.
"But the real story of this election," says Nesbitt, statewide president of the AFL-CIO, "is the triumph of field work." Internet political action got a lot of ink, but Nesbitt says the get-out-the-vote effort by union troops and the so-called "527s" such as ACT have radically changed the landscape since the primary, registering 270,000 new voters--many of them previously apolitical slackers. "Seventy-three thousand are under 25, and two-thirds of them will vote," Nesbitt says. "We did it with old-fashioned person-to-person contact."
8 pm--Multnomah County Elections Office
Standing at the end of the line on Belmont Street, sheriff's deputy Jerry Robertson raises an aerosol horn above his head. He pushes the button and a nasal whine echoes off the pavement. "That's it!" he declares. People who are already standing in line will still get a chance to vote. Stragglers--well, it's too late.
The last voter is Dave Williams. "Make that Captain Dave Williams," he tells the camera crews clustered around him. A retired fire captain, Williams wants to support Tom Potter for mayor--and also has some concerns about telephone poles in East Portland.
The scene may look chaotic, but both parties have well-organized operations. The Republican Party has stationed a dozen informal observers along the line to spot latecomers who try to cut in. Drew Hymer espies a man trying to join the line at 8:01 and points him out to a deputy.
"I'm here to vote," says Sean Berlinger of Troutdale. "I was here at 8, but I couldn't find the end of the line."
The deputies are not moved. "Once the horn goes off, that's official," says Robertson.
Berlinger originally tried to vote in Fairview, but some problem with his ballot meant that he had to come into Portland instead. "It's a little frustrating," he says.
"I feel sorry for the guy," shrugs Hymer, the Republican observer. "I hate to be a hard nose. But you gotta do what you gotta do. Eight's the deadline."
8:05 pm--Melody Ballroom, 615 SE Alder St.
The crowd is in a good mood at Tom Potter's celebratory shindig at the Melody Ballroom. Jubilant, Potter supporters sip microbrews and watch local news coverage of the state and national elections. Everyone is waiting for what they want to hear. At 8:05 pm, they get what they want. KATU is the first to announce Potter's victory over Jim Francesconi. The room cheers as Potter smiles, lifts his hands in the air and forms two Vs with his fingers. After making his rounds with the local news crews, a beaming Potter gets up on stage and addresses his supporters. "This is amazing," he says. "If you folks can do this in an election, imagine what we could do for this city." He introduces his family on stage and thanks them, his staff and his supporters. "Look around at this crowd," he beams. "I can't just get over how beautiful this crowd is."
8:10 pm--Shilo Inn, 9900 SW Canyon Road, Portland
Shortly after the Oregon polls close at 8 pm, it's apparent that Measure 26-64, a repeal of Multnomah County's 1.25 percent income-tax surcharge, will be defeated. "We simply don't have the resources to battle the public employees," Don McIntire, the measure's chief petitioner, tells a KGW reporter. Another repeal supporter, a balding man in a navy blazer, blames the defeat on Multnomah County residents who don't pay the tax: "goddamn freeloaders." Mel Zucker, a conservative transportation analyst, walks into the bar wearing jeans and a black cowboy hat, carrying a plastic pill bottle. He shows off the label on the bottle, which reads "Hemlock"--poison, to show he's prepared for the worst.
8:45 pm--Downtown Marriott
As results pour into the Multnomah County Republican Party headquarters, the mood is decidedly mixed.
"Well, nationally things are going pretty well," state party chairman Kevin Mannix says as the faithful cheer Bush's lead in Florida.
Locally, however, the story is different. A glum Jason Williams of Oregon Taxpayers United makes the rounds, his group's income-tax repeal shot full of holes. "We've got the highest unemployment of any of the biggest 50 cities in the county, and keeping these high taxes won't help that," Williams says over the steel guitar of the country anthems piped into the ballroom.
Many long Iranian faces dot the room, glum about the early numbers in the 1st District congressional race, which show a scandal-tainted David Wu stomping Goli Ameri.
Perhaps the most disappointed crew are the proponents of Measure 38, who spent more than $5.5 million in an effort to force the state to sell SAIF, the publicly owned workers'-comp provider. "This is a very complicated issue," says campaign spokeswoman Lisa Gilliam. "But tonight is not the end, because polling shows that voters are not satisfied with the status quo."
Neither were the crew from Portland Peaceful Response who faced off with a team of rent-a-cops outside the Marriott with a drum section, bull horns and a massive banner reading," End The Wars."
9 pm--Airport Holiday Inn
"We were the state most likely to let marriage decline, but Oregonians understood what many did not," says Georgene Rice, communications director for the Defense of Marriage Coalition. "This was not a statement on gay and lesbian issues. This was a statement on the value of marriage."
9:21 pm--Powell's Books, 1005 W Burnside St.
The atmosphere was festive late in the afternoon at the City of Books as American fans of the various facets of the BBC gathered in Powell's coffee shop to watch as the Beeb's East Coast correspondent Matthew Wells followed the election results. Grant high schoolers, wizened activists and soccer moms bombarded Wells with questions and attention (one man gave him a Betsy Ross flag). But the tone flags as one after the other of the states turns red and what started as a party turns quickly into a funeral.
9:30 pm--Convention Center
By now, the liberal convergence at the Convention Center is less a party than a seething mass of democracy. Downstairs at the assorted Dem soirées, emotions are mixed. Adams is pleasantly surprised by his lead, while Fish's room is almost sepulchral. And in the No on 36 room, faces look grim; if you've been at all cynical about the importance of gay marriage, try standing in a room of hand-holding gay and lesbian couples who have just learned that most Oregonians don't consider their love as valid as that of heteros. In the Kerry ballroom upstairs, the crowd is cheered that they delivered Oregon to the Dem challenger--but the atmosphere is one of muted panic over Florida and Ohio results. The crowd cheers wildly at an optimistic non-official prediction of Kerry victory. "It might be a little bit of a long night," newly re-elected congressman Blumenauer announces. "But you know, the right result for America is worth waiting for."- spacer spacer spacer spacer spacer spacer spacer spacer spacer spacer spacer spacer spacer spacer spacer spacer spacer spacer spacer spacer spacer spacer spacer spacer spacer spacer spacer spacer -
WWeek 2015