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With Signs and Soup, Floridians Run Old-Fashioned Politics
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Battle of the Signs TAMPA - When Mark Loren spotted enemy headquarters stationed in Tampa, the 42-year-old tile contractor sensed his duty. He planted himself on the sidewalk directly across the street from the Gore-Lieberman billboard that loomed above, and undertook an old Tampa tradition: sign-waving. Loren grabbed a Bush-Cheney placard from his pick-up truck, hoisted it in the air with a wooden stake and waved at passing motorists. "Hey, yeah!" he yelled to honking supporters, flashing a giddy grin. "This is the first time I've done this," said Loren, who lives in a Tampa suburb. "It's a riot." Come election time, sign-waving enthusiasts are as sure as sunshine in this central Florida city. Every candidate -from president down to county commissioner-seems to have troops willing to brave humiliation. But this year, the presidential posters are being waved with extra vigor. The state of Florida is crucial to winning the election and the deciding factor will be central Florida, from Orlando to Tampa, pundits say. In these cities, voters know each ballot counts. They will make the difference in electing Gore, who some Floridians call "a phony" and "an alien," or Bush, "the lying drunk." This race is so close that volunteers are putting in extra time. "In '92 and '96, it's not as life and death as it is now," said a volunteer inside the Democratic nerve center that Loren is picketing. Back on the street, the sun was shining, and Loren was relishing the spotlight. Jolly-looking, he stood with a Bush-Cheney T-shirt stretched across his belly. He listened to a conservative radio talk show on yellow headphones, checking if a passerby has called in yet to mention him. Some folks gave this Pennsylvania native strange looks. "He's crazy," said Pat Nichols, who works at the store where Loren is standing. "Hey yeah!" Loren yelled to an elderly woman looking out her car window. Very few of those who pass by object to Loren's message. He gets a thumbs-down here, an f-word there. But plenty of folks honk in support—young, old, white, black. "This is great," he said. "This is America." This is Tampa. Down the block at Tire City, Charlene Williams was servicing her Ford Explorer when she noticed Loren. The very thought of electing Bush makes her panic, she said. So Williams, a 40-year-old mother, walked to her truck in her sandals, even as the mechanic was fixing the wheel, and reached into the cabin where she keeps a stash of Gore signs. She emerged from the garage with a blue Gore-Lieberman sign and stood about 100 feet from Loren. She attracted as many supportive beeps as Loren. When she wasn't blocking the sun with her right hand, she too gave a thumbs-up sign. Later that night, Williams would take her placards to her son's high school football game. She wanted to teach the 15-year-old athlete a lesson in civics. "I want my son to know at an early age," said Williams, "this is serious. It's not just something you learn in school. This is something that could change your life and make this a better country."
YBOR CITY - It was Saturday morning at La Tropicana Café, where the black bean soup is warm, the Spanish fries crunchy, and, if you dare to talk politics, the language salty. Diner Miguel Sanchez was sipping coffee with friends at a corner table, discussing Florida's recent population growth. "A lot of the people in Florida now are transplanted Yankees who don't know their ass from a hole in the ground," said Sanchez, 78. "This state used to always vote Democratic. The damn Yankees are screwing everything up." For 25 years, Republicans and Democrats alike have gathered at this Tampa landmark for some politics with their Cuban sandwiches. Local politicians swing by to catch some face-time. Color photos of figures like the chief of police and state senators decorate the stucco walls. Sanchez's visits to La Tropicana every Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday remain a constant in his life. "We've been coming here since it opened," he said. La Tropicana is located in Ybor City, a multicultural enclave in Tampa once known as the "cigar capital of the world." It was here in the late 19th century that cigarmakers found the ingredients they needed: a railroad, a port and a warm climate to act as a natural humidor for the tobacco leaf. Ybor City soon became home to Cuban, Spanish and Italian immigrants working in more than 140 cigar factories, producing 250 million cigars a year. Nowadays, Ybor City is known more for its bars, nightlife and old-world charm. Visitors can drive down a brick road, past Mediterranean-style buildings, and pick up the area's trilingual newspaper, La Gaceta, printed in Spanish, English and Italian. Sanchez, whose father immigrated from Spain, is a native of Ybor City, as are the fellas he's sitting with: Joe B. Perez, 83, and Nick LoCicero, 74. All are World War II vets and solid Democrats who still talk about Roosevelt's New Deal and think of Gore as the same type of Democrat. They've heard the Gore ads about how Bush could steal their Social Security checks, and how prescription drug prices might go through the roof. "The one thing that keeps me going is Social Security," said Sanchez. Perez said can't afford the $110 he needs per month for a bottle of 30 "purple pills." "Gore's got a better plan than Bush," he said. Near the end of breakfast, a friend in a gray shirt walked over. It was former Tampa fire captain Frank Urso, asking what they were talking about. George Bush, they said. "You mean the one that's an alcoholic?" They all joined in. "The one who went to Yale and got drunk." "Yeah, the one whose daddy put him in the National Guard." "The one polluting the state of Texas." "The one who wants to drill for oil right off our beaches." Sanchez looked at LoCicero. "All it takes is one spill to ruin the whole place."
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