He answered a call from Brian a couple minutes later. “I told you my plan would work.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Brian grumbled. “I still think you should have let us use the information as leverage for an endorsement.”
“I know, but that’s not how I roll and you know it.”
“Unfortunately, that’s true, but it makes our job of getting you elected that much harder.”
“Maybe, but that’s why I surround myself with the best and the brightest.”
“Watch out. Flattery will get you nowhere.”
“Oh come on, I know you, Brian. Flattery will get me everywhere.”
“Well, that and one of those amazing brown butter rice crispy treats from Crumbs.”
Jim laughed. “I have it here on my desk waiting for you when you stop by. Now, let’s go win this thing, shall we?”
15
The campaign office buzzed with volunteers on Saturday morning. Polls would open in 72 hours and people were grabbing canvas bags full of door hangers and oversized postcards to go out canvassing the neighborhoods for a last-minute push for votes. The older volunteers took packets of voter data that would help them know which people would be most sympathetic to their cause and which doors would likely be a waste of time. The college and high school students had the same information on their phones.
Lizzie quieted the group to give some final instructions. “OK, we figure Kenny Burdo has the Democratic vote pretty well locked up, so today we are targeting Republicans and Independents. Voters of all ages are good to talk to, but don’t forget to ask about any adult children living at home to see how they might be voting. Houses with American or military flags are always a good sign.” She held up a voter data packet. “If they explain a particular concern or have a question you can’t answer, don’t try to make up policy on the spot. Just write down their question and contact information, and we will get back to them as soon as we can.”
Lizzie fielded questions for a few minutes before wrapping up.
As Rebecca waited for Jim to finish a conversation with his campaign manager, she checked the app on her phone to see what the weather was like in New York where Nadia, one of her best friends from high school, was now going to college. Rainy and 47 degrees. She shot a picture of the mountains and cloudless sky and sent it to her, with a report that it was sunny and the high was expected to reach 75 degrees.
Jim peeked over her shoulder as she texted the message. “That’s kind of mean, isn’t it?”
“Hey, quit snooping.”
“Sorry, old reporter’s habit.” He raised his hands in surrender. “Why are you giving her such a hard time anyway?”
“When Nadia was deciding where to go to college, she ignored my advice to stay here and picked NYU. She said something about seeing life outside Emerald Valley and that she wanted to explore real seasons.” She chuckled. “Don’t feel too bad for her. She sent me a picture of the trees changing colors in Central Park a few weeks ago. It was absolutely breathtaking.”
“Sounds like you’re even, then.” He picked up a bag as they headed to his car. “Are you ready to go?”
“I am.”
“What’s your approach going to be?”
“Well, there are three political parties in California: Republicans, Business-friendly Democrats and Liberal Democrats. Kenny Burdo is a business-friendly Democrat, which is why the party wanted him to run against Mrs. Holcombe in the 42nd District, which is mostly Republican. Our goal is not to beat up on Burdo, but to say that his party will push him to reject the values that are important to most people around here, while you’re willing to listen to both sides and make a fair decision.”
“Wow, you really have been listening to Brian.”
“Actually Ms. Wilson and I have met a couple times for coffee. She makes being a political consultant sound pretty cool.”
“Watch out, or she might convert you to the Dark Side.”
She smiled. “Actually, now I’m thinking I might double major in psychology and political science and figure out which one I want to do down the road.”
_____
Jim picked up the bag from the back seat. “OK, who’s first up for today?”
Rebecca checked her phone. “Ivan and Tamara Garcia. Their party is listed as NPP, so that means they’re Independents, right?”
“Exactly.”
He rang the doorbell and a harried woman in her early-to-mid-30s answered. As Jim introduced himself, he could hear children playing a video game in the background.
“Where do you stand on education?”
Thanks to Lizzie and Brian, and his time in the Legislature, he had developed solid answers for most of the issues. “Do your kids go to public or private school?”
“Blake and Destiny go to D. Marie Smith Elementary a couple blocks from here, but I’ve been checking out Asher Academy for the Arts. The classes are smaller, and they have a theater program that would be perfect for Destiny, but we’ve been denied a transfer two years running. I’m so frustrated that I’m about to give up and enroll them in private school, which my husband and I can’t afford unless we add to our debt, and we really don’t want to do that.”
Jim had heard the complaint more than once from concerned parents in his district. “Budgets are as tight in Sacramento as it sounds like they are in your house, so it makes sense that the Emerald Valley Unified School District and others like it would want to keep as many students as they can. That being said, the Asher Academy is a public charter and paid for by tax dollars, so if it meets Destiny’s needs, then she should be able to go there.” He pointed back to Rebecca. “If you could give my niece your contact information, we can look into it and have someone from the office get back in touch with you.”
A smile broke out on the mother’s face as she shared her information with Rebecca. As the two were preparing to leave, Tamara said she would consider voting for Mitchell.
The next voter was three houses up on the left-hand side of the street, so they debriefed about the visit.
“Are you bummed that she didn’t promise to vote for you?”
“Not really. She said she would think about it, which will probably turn into a yes, but the best part is that she will tell her friends about us helping her out, and, in the end, that will get us a few more votes, even if she doesn’t do the same on Tuesday.” He looked at the house in question and noticed a Marine Corps flag waving on a pole near the front door. “So, what can you tell me about our next house?”
Rebecca looked up the information. “The Pitti family lives there. Dad is 48, Mom is 46, and they are Republicans. They have two kids at home, 18 and 16. The parents are listed as PVM. What’s that mean?”
“‘Permanent Vote by Mail,’ which means they likely filled out and mailed in their ballot several weeks ago. But, if you want to give it a try, go right ahead. I’ll just stand there and smile.”
She picked up her step. “That would be so cool. Thanks!”
“All you have to do is just make sure they don’t vote for the other guy when you’re done.”
“Very funny. Keep it up, and I’ll go work for the Burdo campaign.”
Jim’s smile undercut the shocked look in his eyes. “No, not that. I’ll be good, I promise.”
_____
Melissa never could get completely comfortable in her seat during the nearly hour-long drive, but returning to Antonia’s Pizzeria was worth the hassle. The sea breeze blew back memories of the first few months of their relationship, getting to know each other. They returned a year later, after they had gotten engaged.
As they walked into the restaurant, the twin aromas of tomato sauce and mozzarella cheese greeted them. While deep-dish, Chicago-style pizzas were still their specialty, flat screen TVs had replaced the painted signs that featured menu items and murals of pepperoni, sausage, tomatoes and mushrooms.
Jim took in the new additions. “Seven years. Things have changed a bit since our last visit.”
�
��I hope they didn’t mess with the recipe, because I’ve been looking forward to this all week.”
“I still think you should think about getting the salad. I’m worried the pizza sauce will be too spicy.”
Swiveling her head, she looked straight at her husband. “I might have a basketball in here.” She pointed to her stomach. “But I’m pregnant, not dying, and, since I’m carrying your spawn and all, if I want pizza, I’m getting pizza.”
Jim considered doing a John Wayne impression, but quickly calculated that the odds of getting socked for doing so were high, so he simply conceded the point. “Pizza for two, it is.”
The two local police officers unobtrusively sitting in the corner sharing a meal had been a concession struck with Strojny, as Jim had insisted on enjoying one evening without his shadow.
Terry and Rachel waved them over from the front counter. “We’ve never been here before. What’s good?” Jim recommended the deep-dish with pepperoni and mushrooms, which they ordered before finding a table.
Melissa smiled. “That’s what we had our first date here. Well, we weren’t quite dating at the time.”
Jim scoffed. “You called me an egotistical jerk, if I remember correctly. I’m not quite sure that qualifies as a date.”
“Maybe, but I think that’s when I noticed how blue your eyes were.”
“And I seem to remember how cute your hair was that evening.” Jim turned to the other couple. “And that’s our love story. What about you guys?”
Terry motioned toward Rachel. “We met in a speech class in college. I was a history major and didn’t have a shy bone in my body. Rachel, on the other hand, wasn’t quite as eager to take the class.”
“We didn’t do much public speaking in graphic design.” Rachel grinned. “But if we hadn’t met there, I’m not sure we would have run into each other anywhere else on campus. We got married a year after graduation right before Terry started teaching.”
“Any kids?”
Rachel’s smile faded at Jim’s question. “No.”
Melissa extended her hand. “I’m sorry. We didn’t mean to offend.”
“That’s OK. We had lots of practice, but just no results.” Jim noticed the teacher used humor to deflect difficult topics.
Rachel jabbed her husband. “Seriously, Terry. I can’t take you anywhere!”
Terry gestured to Jim. “You read about our niece, Sophia, in the blog I wrote about the trip to Disneyland. She’s loads of fun, and the best part is that we can get her all sugared-up and hand her back to her parents at the end of the day.”
“She’s got you wrapped around her little finger,” Rachel said.
“Maybe when she was two, but not now.”
“Sure, you keep telling yourself that if it makes you feel better.”
Jim smiled at the exchange. These two debate just like Melissa and I.
Melissa grimaced and placed her hand on her stomach. “Calm down there, little fella.”
“When are you due?” Rachel asked.
“The doctor says December 11th, but I’d be happy to get this over with sooner rather than later.”
The pizza arrived just then, and the four prayed silently before dishing up a slice of the nearly 3-inch-deep savory pie whose cheese would stretch from pan to plate if you weren’t careful.
“This is delicious.” Terry’s eyes widened. “But it’s pretty far from home. What made you think to come out here tonight?”
Jim wiped his sauce off his cheek. “The next three days are going to be crazy, so I needed to get away from shaking hands and kissing babies. And my lovely wife has a rule that I need to take a break from politicking when I’m out of the district.”
“Not your district, not your deal,” Rachel said between bites.
Terry laughed at the quip. “That sounds like me when I’m running errands in Emerald Valley. I have students and parents come up to me all the time.”
Rachel patted his hand. “One time, we were headed to Coronado Island to celebrate our wedding anniversary, and he went to the store to pick up some last-minute things for the trip. He comes back 45 minutes later, because he ran into a dad who was frustrated by his kid’s grades and a couple of students who were talking about the trip they had taken over spring break.”
“It’s like being a minor celebrity, but without the sports car or fancy house,” Terry said.
The two couples swapped jokes and stories throughout the evening and, in the process, a solid friendship between the four of them began to form.
16
36 hours until the polls close.
Even if Jim hadn’t had the countdown programmed into his phone, the adrenaline already pumping through his veins had been heightened by the 20-ounce café au lait he’d purchased from Classic Grounds on his way in to the office. He had some emails to reply to, and he preferred to use his work computer rather than his phone because it was easier to proofread messages on the big screen. This was a lot easier when I had an editor to make sure I didn’t say anything too stupid.
Lizzie had texted him earlier about reading the editorial in the Courier, but he hadn’t done so yet. Besides, he knew that it would be better to take time to read the piece, so he could temper his response if it was negative. The last poll had been taken on Saturday and asked voters to choose between Mitchell and Burdo, as Dooley had dropped out the day before. Jim was ahead, 51—49 in that poll, which was well within the margin of error.
Jim held his breath before navigating to the Courier’s website. We can’t afford for this to be a hit piece.
The article was written by Ted Nelson, who recently had been promoted at the news agency.
Mitchell: The Right Choice on Election Day
By Ted Nelson
To say that the race for the 42nd Assembly District has been chaotic is an understatement. The race began with incumbent Delores Holcombe running against Kenny Burdo, who worked for County Supervisor Emilie Myers.
Then Delores Holcombe was shot and killed and everything changed. Jim Mitchell, a staffer for the assemblywoman, was appointed to her seat and agreed to run in Holcombe’s place in November. Walnut Mayor Linda Dooley jumped in the race, but backed out on Friday for reasons that are still unclear.
So, we are back to a two-person race. And, in that race, there is one candidate who is clearly better: Jim Mitchell.
It would be easy to argue that I am endorsing Jim because he used to work for us and was crucial to us receiving the Pulitzer Prize several years ago.
Truth be told, however, while his reporting was excellent and worthy of acclaim, some of his actions in getting that story did not measure up to the high standards of excellence we pride ourselves on here at the Courier. He had a personal stake in the story, but was, by his own admission, more interested in getting the story than caring what happened to some of the people involved, including a close family member of his. We may expect our reporters to be objective, but we don’t want them to be heartless.
It would be easy for people to judge Jim for that one event, but since the New Creation Fellowship tragedy, he has become a different person. Perhaps it is new-found faith, maybe it’s his marriage to current reporter Melissa Jenkins, or maybe he has grown up and learned from his mistakes.
I admit that I know Jim and like him as a friend, but I also respect him as a person. He is dedicated in whatever he does and, in his short term of service as a lawmaker, Jim has shown he is trustworthy and ready to do his best for the people of the 42nd Assembly District.
Kenny Burdo also is a good public servant with solid ideas, and perhaps the time will be right for him down the road. But we’ve already had enough change and uncertainty in the district for some time to come.
Jim Mitchell has performed admirably, navigating us through the chaos since the terrible events of August 2 in front of Emerald Valley City Hall.
Let’s let him keep his job, shall we?
Ted Nelson is the publisher of the Southern California Courier. Fol
low him on Twitter @NelsonSCCourier.
Jim smiled as he finished the article and texted Lizzie.
Just saw Ted’s column. Let’s hope people take his advice.
_____
It was just past 2 p.m. Tuesday and the events of the past three days seemed to swirl together in a surrealist landscape befitting Salvador Dali. Jim had said the same things to so many different people that he barely could keep track of where he was going next. Brian and Lizzie were pushing volunteers for last-minute get-out-the-vote efforts, and Rebecca had taken the day off from school to “staff” Jim as he went from event to event. Rather than follow along in her own car, Rebecca rode shotgun with her uncle, making sure he got to his events on time and remembered what he was saying to whom.
Turning down the tree-lined main street of downtown Emerald Valley, Jim was thinking about the lunchtime Chamber of Commerce gathering he had just left. “You know, it amazes me that people think I can do everything from fill their potholes to lower the interest rates on their mortgage.” The talk on transportation and infrastructure had led to smaller side conversations about onerous business regulations and how he might be able to help. Jim spent much of the time explaining that most of what they wanted fixed was out of his hands and best handled at the local level.”
Rebecca laughed. “I know. It’s like nobody ever listened in class when they talked about federalism and how it works.”
“Yeah, but how much did you care about federalism before you started working for the campaign?”
“Good point.” She scanned the calendar on her phone. “We can swing by the campaign office if you like before our 3 o’clock. Then, after that, you have...”
Jim noticed the gap in her monologue. “What’s up? Is something wrong?”
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