by Rich Garon
Maybe Terri was right about Sanford, Andy thought. His sister stuck her forefinger into her mouth and wretched forward “All right, Sanford, you’re going to take Lee out, show him the ropes.”
“Got it, Boss.”
“Lee, any questions?” Andy asked.
“No thank you, Mr. Herman. Dr. Black taught me an awful lot already, I just hope I can remember it all.”
Terri’s forefinger went back into her mouth. Andy thought for a minute he might do the same thing.
“I’ll be back in a couple of hours, just as soon as I feel comfortable the kid can be on his own,” Sanford said. “You’ve got another one coming in for me this afternoon, right?”
“Yeah, there’s another one for you this afternoon,” Andy replied.
Lee had never been down Hanover Street.
“Okay, Hanover Street, the troops have landed; we’ve established a beachhead, let’s get rolling Lee,” Sanford Black said as he got out of his car. “And don’t forget to put a Calvert for Council sticker on your shirt. These voters want to know who they’re talking to. Don’t ever forget your sticker.”
During the next two hours Lee and Sanford would walk up one side of Hanover and after reaching the cul-de-sac, head back on the other side until they reached the car. It was an old subdivision where small, one-story houses were often suffocated by rangy trees and bushes. Some houses were carefully painted boxes with brush-cut grass and garden hoses neatly rolled. Others were sun-bleached and covered with paint blisters, with yards crowded with weeds reaching out in all directions to ensnare prey of old toys and other debris. It was a working-class neighborhood, but better than where Lee lived. As long as he was dressed nicely and was polite he didn’t think the people in these houses or any houses, might suspect he lived in a bungalow. By the time he walked to the end of the street, he found himself determining if the people who answered the door were a match with the house in which they lived.
Lee watched very closely as Sanford stared at the walk sheets listing the names of the people, their addresses, dates of birth, party registration, and date they last voted. “We’re just concentrating on the Repubs,” Sanford told him when they began. “The people with an R in the column next to their name. No use wasting our time with the Democrats, so skip a house if you see a D next to a name. There is a strategy here and you’re going to see that it is a winning strategy. Just do what I do.”
Lee didn’t know if the people would take him as seriously as they did Sanford. Sanford looked very official. “I’ll do the first five houses and you just watch,” he told Lee. “Then it’s your turn, so watch carefully everything I do. Everything I do is part of the larger package which forms the strategy, so watch carefully.”
Lee did exactly as he was told.
Sanford took choppy steps up the first driveway, shuffling and studying papers and preparing his lines for when that first door opened much as a theater curtain being raised as the play began. He rang the bell and waited. He rang again; still no answer.
“Come up here pal,” he called down to Lee who hurried to the front step, his canvas bag flapping against his leg. “Did you see what just happened here?” Sanford asked.
“No one was home?” Lee responded.
“Yes, no one was home; that’s a situation you’ll be facing and timing is essential. I usually give them twenty seconds to answer the door. I’m not going to stand there all day. And you know what’s next?”
“You leave them some campaign literature.”
“That’s very good pal. I see you were paying attention during my talk at the office; but here’s the trick, here’s where years of experience come into play. You don’t leave the campaign literature any old place. What are you going to do, leave it on the doormat and have it blow away? No. You roll the handout slightly and stick it between the doorknob and the door jam. If there’s a screen door never open it; someone might think you’re trying to break in. Roll it slightly and slip it behind the handle on the screen door and there will be enough tension to keep it wedged in place. Think you’ll be able to remember that?”
“I, I think so.”
“Good. Now on to the next house and be prepared for anything.”
No one was home at the second house or the third house. Sanford had Lee place the literature on the door and then the older man flicked the piece of paper with his finger to make sure the tension was right.
No one was home at the fourth house either. Lee began to think they wouldn’t find anyone at home. But just as Sanford was about to leave the fifth house and fight his way back through the hedges commandeering the sidewalk, the door swung open and an elderly man in an oversized sweater stared out at the two men wearing Calvert for Council stickers.
Sanford put on his game face. This was a potential Calvert voter and Sanford strapped himself into the captain’s chair and prepared to show his young acolyte how a big fish was landed.
“Good morning, sir. My assistant and I are part of the Calvert for Council team. Dan Calvert’s a good man and we need only a few minutes of your time to tell you why we believe you should vote for him,” Sanford told the old man as he tamped down on his half-combed hair.
Lee noticed a musty odor coming from the house and a whiff too of burnt toast. The old man breathed through his mouth, eyes flinched as if trying to find the right focus.
“I don’t vote anymore. My wife died two years ago and I don’t vote anymore, so we can stop wasting each other’s time and besides that I’ve got to go to the bathroom,” the old man said in a raspy voice.
“I’ve very sorry to hear about your wife, sir, but really you know you still have a civic duty to vote. We’d like to have a bit of your time to tell you why Dan Calvert is the best man in this race.”
“You got a problem with your hearing, Mister?” the old man spat. “I told you my wife died two years ago and I don’t vote anymore, damn it.” The door slammed shut.
The two canvassers walked silently to the road. “All right Lee, you see how it’s done. Sometimes there are people home and sometimes not. It’s about time for me to get back to the office and help Andy with some big-picture strategic thinking. You finish up here on Hanover, do Waverly, and Oten Streets, then come back to the office and let us know how things went,” Sanford said as he climbed into his car. Lee watched as his mentor drove to the end of the street and turned on to the main road in the opposite direction of the office.
Lee planned to skip lunch; he wanted to cover as much ground as possible so Andy Herman would be impressed. Now, he stood standing on the sidewalk holding his canvas bag and wearing his Calvert for Council sticker and wondering why he had ever taken the job. He had been frightened by the old man and he thought that Sanford, even though he was an expert, had been shaken as well. This job was going to be much harder than he thought; it would take more than being polite and liking to walk to do this job the right way. He didn’t know if he would be able to remember everything Sanford had taught him. Suppose people he spoke to, like the mean man in his dream, got angry and called Andy and complained and then he called Mrs. Plennington and told her that “He’s very sorry, but Lee might be a better fit doing something else.” What would Mrs. Plennington say? Would she be embarrassed? Oh boy, what would his father say, or would he just shake his head and throw up his hands? Lee should probably get in touch with Reid to see if that landscaping job were still available. Reid would watch out for him; tell him how to do things the right way. A car passed by and the driver looked at Lee. The woman had two children in the back seat and she stared at Lee. He realized he had remained frozen on the sidewalk and began walking toward the main road. He could walk back to the office in twenty minutes and thank Andy Herman for giving him a chance to be part of the Calvert for Council team and that would have to be that. Andy would have to understand that Lee had tried his best. He was sorry if he disappointed them, especially since Sanford had taken all that time to share his political expertise.
As Lee stood
at the end of the road, a car came to a full stop at the sign. An elderly woman, who looked like she had just stepped out of a beauty parlor, looked out her open window. “Hello,” she said to Lee, in a tone so pleasant he knew she had to be a loving grandmother.
“Hello,” Lee said in response. How many more kindly grandmothers and grandfathers and mothers and other nice people lived in those houses? Maybe there wouldn’t be another person like the old man whose wife died two years ago. Lee thought he could remember all the things Sanford had taught him, especially the part about getting the right tension on the campaign literature when he placed it between the door knob and door jamb. The women’s smile told him not to give up. He smoothed out his Calvert for Council sticker and started to walk towards the house just past the old man’s.
C.T. Agarrwal lived at that house and was born in 1958. The sheet said C.T. and K.S. Agarrwal, Lee assumed K.S. was C.T.’s wife, had voted in the last election. A light blue Taurus with a faded American flag decal in the window was parked in the carport. Landscaping in the front of the house did not seem to be a priority for the Agarrwals. Lee just barely made out the word welcome on a mat heavy with dirt when his nostrils felt the slight burn of sweet spices. He was so mesmerized by the pile of assorted worn sandals near the door that he rang the doorbell with none of the trepidation he had anticipated on this his first solo. The doorbell, like a detonator, had set off inside the house shuffling sounds and the patter of words he didn’t understand. The door started to open. There stood an old man with white hair and dark skin who appeared no friendlier than his neighbor. Lee froze, his mouth agape, and thought he might soon be calling Reid about the landscaping job. A slight woman in a blue wrap-dress moved past the man and approached Lee. The dining table stood behind her in front of a large painting of an elephant whose head had a covering of jewels and some kind of fancy material.
“Ma’am, I am terribly sorry if I have disturbed your lunch. It smells like a good lunch and I promise I will not take much of your time.” He paused. “Ma’am my name is Lee Fitts and I am here on behalf of Dan Calvert who is running for town council. I’m here to give you information about why you should vote for Dan Calvert. He is a good Republican, just, and I am looking at my sheet for a second, like you and Mr. Aggarwal. I have a packet of interesting campaign material for you, and Mr. Aggarwal. I only have one question left for you, can Dan Calvert count on the votes of Mr. and Mrs. Aggarwal on Election day? Are you Mr. Aggarwal sir?”
The old man said nothing. He just stared at Lee who wondered if the old man was about to yell at him. The woman looked at the materials Lee had handed her and her mouth broke into a smile.
“Thank you very much for these things about the election” she said as her mouth plucked out words through a smile that was polite but not welcoming. “My father does not vote, but I will show these things to my husband and we will read them before the election.” She seemed satisfied.
“Thank you very much for your time ma’am and sir.”
“You are very welcome,” she said nodding her head several times.
Lee walked down the driveway and made a check next to the Aggarwals’ name. He circled the box, just as Sanford had told him in a case like this, containing the words: did not commit. Mrs. Aggarwal and her father had been very pleasant, Lee thought. Maybe he could do a good job at this after all. Maybe he didn’t need Reid’s landscaping job. It had been a long time since Lee felt this good about himself. Surely there must be other people out there as nice as Mrs. Agarrwal and her father. And, Lee told himself, if these other people just gave him a chance he would give them a very polite presentation on behalf of Dan Calvert. Maybe they might even call Andy Herman and say he had a very nice, polite man out there working for Dan Calvert.
Lee walked up the next driveway. No cars, Christmas icicle lights on the gutters, black mold stains on the roof, two weather-worn lawn chairs, and tattered shades hanging in the window. He rang the bell, counted. No answer. He rolled the handout, placed it by the door knob and checked the tension; perfect. He checked the box on the sheet on his clipboard: left lit, which meant left campaign literature. Okay, that’s good, Lee imagined Sanford saying.
The next house had an addition that didn’t fit the original structure very well. Whiskey barrel halves with flower remnants choked by weeds lined the driveway. The window on the rusted screen door had a faded sticker to inform firemen that pets were inside. Lee rang the bell and the shrill bark suggested it was a very small dog. Lee stood still waiting, but there was no answer. His fingers flew to the rolling motion that he had mastered and the handout slid behind the door handle. Lee tapped the sheet of paper. Perfect tension. He tallied his results on his clipboard.
He visited three more houses before the first drop of rain landed on his clipboard. The water hit one of the words he had circled and the ink began to seep into a raised, wet wrinkle. Lee looked in horror at what had happened. He had been so careful to have his sheet look perfectly neat. Now his sheet had a glaring ink smudge. He felt a drop hit his head and then his sheet took another hit. Lee quickly pulled the clipboard toward his chest and walked down the driveway. He hadn’t seen anyone since the Aggarwals and with each empty house he became less confident that he could do a good presentation. If only he had encountered someone else, he was sure he could have started to get his presentation down pat -- practice made perfect. He remembered his father telling him that when Lee had been good at kicking the football.
But now Lee was getting anxious. He almost hoped no one answered the door. He was getting very good at getting the paper to stay where it was supposed to stay, he knew how to get the perfect tension. But he started having doubts again; maybe the Aggarwals had been a fluke.
More drops started to fall and soon they were landing all over Lee. Lee didn’t think he would be presentable much longer. He didn’t want to look like some wet rat if he found someone home to whom he could make his presentation on behalf of Dan Calvert. At least his sheet seemed to be safe. As horrible as the smudges were, they hadn’t gotten any worse. He pulled the clipboard toward his chest. He thought if he let the sheet dry, maybe he could doctor those smudges with some white out. Then he saw the identical smudges on his gold shirt. Forgetting he was holding the clipboard away from his body, he watched in horror as the sheet took at least a half-dozen more hits. He put the clipboard in his canvas bag and held it tightly against his chest. He would have to stop right now. He needed to get to the bus stop shelter at the end of the street as soon as possible so he could think about what he should do next.
Lee stood inside the shelter and listened to the rain pound the roof. He was trapped; the bus passed about six blocks away from the Calvert for Council office. The rain was coming down harder and the sky was smoky gray. He reached into his canvas bag to retrieve his peanut butter and jelly sandwich. He was through that and on to an apple when the truck with one windshield wiper drove by. Lee began to smile as the brake lights came on and the car did a wiggly U-turn on the slippery road.
“Is this some type of new diner or something?” Reid called over as he rolled down his window.
“I am stuck.” Lee said. “I do not have an umbrella or a raincoat and I am already very wet.” Lee pushed the remains of his lunch into his canvas bag.
“Well, you better hurry up and get in,” Reid said as he reached over to unlock the passenger door.
“This is very lucky to have you go by when you did.”
“Yeah, well they pulled the plug on our landscape job. We were putting in sod and the ground we had spent most of the morning raking started to turn to mud and the sod was tearing and what a mess. We’re going to have start all over again tomorrow; that is if the rain lets up. So, tell me how’s your job coming? Cover a lot of houses? Meet any interesting people?”
“I think I like my job. I was not sure if I was doing a good job, but then I met the Aggarwals and I thought I was doing a good job, but then the rain came and I really did not see anyone els
e, but I did hand out a lot of Calvert for Council campaign literature.”
“You need an umbrella if you’re going to be walking around in the rain. Don’t they have a Calvert for Council umbrella or poncho at that office of yours?”
“They did not tell me about any umbrellas or ponchos. Boy, maybe I should have asked. Maybe they thought I would be bringing my own umbrella, but Sanford never said anything about bringing one. But that is where I have to go, back to that office of mine.”
“Yeah, yeah, that’s no problem. Who the hell is Sanford? Ah, who cares. Why don’t I pick you up later, I got some cash – off the books with these characters—we’ll get some burgers, then I’ve got something you won’t believe in my apartment, you gotta see this. Seven o’clock, okay?”
“Yes, that is a good time for me. It is this next building where I have to get out.”
Reid pulled over to the curb. “Lee what happened to your shirt? Those are nasty-looking smudges? You usually don’t go around looking like that.”
Lee had forgotten about the smudges. “I did not have those when I left home this morning, I got them from my check sheet when it was raining.”
“Yeah, well whatever, you better get that washed or something. Later,” Reid called out.
Lee ran towards the door holding his canvas bag against his chest. He didn’t know what Andy Herman was going to say.
“Speak of the devil, there’s Lee now,” Andy said, his narrow body seeming even more so as he stood between two athletically-fit women both noticeably taller than the campaign manager. “Sanford said you were doing just fine out there, but looks like the rain got you. Did you bring an umbrella?”
Before Lee could respond, Audrey Plennington was by his side with a small cloth to dry off Lee’s hair. “Lee,” she said. “Did you bring an umbrella, and how did you get those smudges on your shirt? You don’t have an umbrella, do you? I want you to take mine and when it dries, keep it in your bag. You can’t be doing all that walking without an umbrella, these storms come out of nowhere this time of year. Lee, this is Mrs. Calvert.”