Old Obama acquaintance voices South Side’s disillusionment with his former ally

“It wasn’t big enough to begin with . . . as economists say. . . . It didn’t trickle down to enough people here and in other cities,” he says.

Still, the loyalist Tolliver thinks political opponents, particularly congressional Republicans, have unfairly constrained the president. Moreover, he regards Obama as a victim of supporters’ huge expectations.

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Through the lens of the White House photographer: For the past three years, Pete Souza has served President Obama’s offical photographer. View his best images from July 2012.

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“It’s been difficult, but what the administration has done for us and some others shows they are trying hard,” he says.

‘I need to see something more’

Back in Bronzeville, in his office on a recent Friday, Allen is on the phone. It is the end of a long week, further complicated when he had to rush to the bank because the check for his phone bill had not cleared. “Looky here,” he says to his caller, a Bronzeville resident trying to help someone else. “I know he needs work. You don’t think I know? I’ll see what I can do.”

A visitor arrives, Harold Lucas, the 70-year-old director of the Bronzeville Visitor Information Center and a passionate Obama supporter in 2008, when he sold Obama buttons and bumpers stickers. Lucas projects a cautiously optimistic air about some of the stimulus projects in the pipeline for Chicago. But, joined by a seething Carter, he has the same worries about jobs as other community leaders in Bronzeville. “I like the president,” Lucas says. “But I need to see something more happening here.”

Carter, who has been listening, wearing his Broke Party T-shirt, begins talking in a rush about Obama being part of “the 1 percenters.”

“The 1 percenters,” Lucas says softly, trying out the phrase. “Which makes us the 99 percenters, I guess.”

“Damn right,” Carter says.

Allen just watches them.

“The 1 percenters,” Lucas repeats, looking at Allen and then gesturing at the young renegade. “It’s painful for me to hear [Carter] say these things. . . . But I can’t argue with it. What you have here are three generations of the 99 percenters within the African American community. Within four years of the president’s election, we all feel like we’re disenfranchised and on the outside. . . . This close to the election, that’s a problem for the president. Can’t have people stay at home.”

Carter mutters an obscenity about the election. He looks at Allen and points a finger at him. “I’m not going to deny the truth or be lulled to sleep just because it’s Obama. You understand? I’m pointing a finger at Obama and . . .”

“Hey,” Allen interrupts, smiling. He carves out his survival by playing conciliator among the hot and the hotter. “I’m just trying to connect the dots here, okay? Maybe get something done.”

“I’m for that,” Lucas says, laughing. With that, their meeting winds down.

It’s late in the afternoon, and Allen hurries downstairs, talking on his cellphone, promising yet another caller that he’ll help him with a job search while assuring an acquaintance that he’ll put $100 in his pocket by day’s end. He hangs up. “Poor guy is broke and got his car towed,” he says. “He did some work for me. I’ve got to get the money for him before the bank closes. Maybe get some donations.”

By the time he reaches the sidewalk, Allen is breathing hard. “A rough week,” he says. A car pulls up, another indignity: He is bumming a ride from a friend to the bank. But it is then that he says he sees it, a real benefit to his ragtag crusader’s life, some advantage — maybe the only one he enjoys — over an old comrade who once traveled these roads with him.

“I don’t get to ride in jets and motorcades like him with sirens going off,” he says. “But I get to see these streets as they really are. I’m always seeing the Shortys.”