By Joel Achenbach
Washington Post Staff Writer
Sunday, February 17, 2008
CRAWFORD, Tex. -- From certain angles, this town looks as if it already got hit by a recession. The gift shop next to the police station closed about a year ago, and there's a "Building For Sale" banner flapping from the cornice. Two other gift shops have long since gone out of business. Another one is open now only on weekends. Two more are still going, but they sometimes close early in the day during the lonely winter months.
The Bush boom is over.
"It didn't last. You can only sell so many souvenirs," says the former mayor, Robert Campbell.
When the then-governor of Texas bought a ranch outside of town in 1999, Crawford suddenly became more than just a crossroads west of Waco. When George W. Bush became president of the United States, the village sprouted signs declaring itself the Western White House. Property values spiked. World leaders made regular appearances. A new bank branch opened on the main intersection.
But Bush is now a lame duck, and this little piece of Bush Country is in a transitional moment just as Texas is about to play a pivotal role in the presidential race.
The state holds a primary on March 4 in which Sen. Hillary Rodham Clinton desperately needs a victory over the surging Sen. Barack Obama. But Texans are only now focusing on the primary. "I've got two land lines, and they haven't called me yet. I don't think we mattered until a few days ago," says James Hansen, 50, a motivational speaker in nearby McGregor.
The presidential campaign was supposed to be over before it ever got to Texas, so it's not as if anyone anticipated a race here. Clinton's visit to South Texas last week seemed to have been thrown together at the last minute. On Thursday the Obama campaign headquarters in Austin still had hardly a stick of furniture, and a volunteer sat on the floor tapping into his laptop.
In Crawford, the presidential contest might as well be happening on a different planet. Ask about the primary and you might get a quizzical look, as though you're bringing up something kind of eccentric, like cricket or lawn bowling. For Republicans the primary is anticlimactic, since there's already a presumptive nominee. And for the first time this century, Crawford doesn't have a dog in the fight.
You don't see any yard signs around here -- not one -- with a presidential candidate's name. You might, though, see a campaign sign for someone like "Doc" Anderson, who's running for state representative, or Stan Hickey, who's running for Precinct 5 constable.
But the politics of Crawford are more complicated than you might think.
"This was a Democratic town before Bush came here," says Joe Cuff, who owns a general store and gift shop.
Several other locals mentioned the same thing -- it's almost Crawford's dirty little secret. The town had a Democratic mayor well into Bush's tenure. But the town voted overwhelmingly for Bush in both 2000 and 2004.
"All the people like him. You know. Just the person, you know. I think it was better before 9/11. After 9/11, things kind of went to hell," Cuff says.
One way to get people stirred up here is to mention the Clintons. For some Bush loyalists, the Clinton name acts like a cattle prod to the ribs.
"If she stayed with her husband after what he did, I'm afraid her choices aren't very good," says Donald Lammert, 66, a Crawford native who works for Franklin Industrial Minerals, hauling crushed rock and hanging onto his job because he needs the medical insurance.
"People around here have had enough Clintons," says a man who gives his name only as J.W., one of eight fellows gathered after dusk at the Masonic Lodge in Crawford. They tell stories about the roads getting shut down when the president visits, the choppers overhead, the strange boat that appears in the lake. The president and first lady vote in the little fire station a block away, with every street blockaded by school buses.
The president has brought attention to a part of the world that could be generously described as unassuming. Crawford dates itself to 1871 and really got rolling in the 1880s when it had a cotton gin and served as a stop on the Gulf, Colorado and Santa Fe Railway. To this day, the skyline is dominated by the massive grain silos along the tracks. A stone monument in the heart of town commemorates the achievements of the high school football team of 2004, state champions in their division.
Joe Holmes, born and raised here, recalls how it used to take half a day to ride a horse to Waco.
"You take people my age, they haven't forgotten Hoover," Holmes says.
"I thought people your age couldn't remember Hoover," jibes his friend George Cross.
Talley Barnes, 69, a retired firefighter, recalls the time he was down at a burger place on the main drag and a huge guy came in and checked out all the doors. Barnes said the men's room is over there. The huge guy said that the president of the United States was about to walk in. Bush popped in, grabbed some coffee in a Styrofoam cup, sat at the table with Barnes and five friends and chewed the fat for 30 minutes. They talked about the best places to play golf in the area. Barnes assured the president that he should stick to that country club over in Waco.
So he likes Bush. But not as much as before.
"I think this war is turning people off of Bush. They're still Republican. But if he was running again this time, I wouldn't vote for him," Barnes says.
Melanie Lowe, 18, a waitress, says she'll vote for Sen. Clinton, though she's not entirely sure why. "I think it's the woman thing," she says.
A guy in a pickup truck down the street huffs and snorts when asked about the election. He says all the candidates are related to one another. It's not clear if he means this literally. "They all go to the same schools. They belong to the same clubs." He turns and stomps off without giving his name.
Things have gotten so slow in Crawford that even the Crawford Peace House, base camp for antiwar protesters and alternative-thinking folks, looked forlorn this week, all locked up, the two "staff parking" spaces empty. There was not a soul walking the stone labyrinth and meditating on peace.
Activist Kay Lucas, who lives about 40 minutes away, says she's not sure if the house can continue to operate once Bush leaves office. The activists had a meeting a few weeks ago that drew nearly 20 people, but they can't staff the Peace House on a daily basis. Funding just isn't there. But she adds, "I think for sure we're going to have a huge celebration Jan. 20, 2009."
At the Red Bull gift shop, manager Jamie Burgess, 42, says people still buy the Bush souvenirs -- the beverage cozies, $3, are a big seller, for example -- but the slowing economy has hurt business.
"It'll pick up with the wedding," she ventures.
That'll be May 10. Jenna Bush, presidential daughter, is getting married out at the ranch. The Red Bull is already getting ready to stock the wedding souvenirs, and hoping that Crawford's moment in the sun isn't over just yet.
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