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Who's More Red, White and Blue-Collar?
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In 1994, George W. Bush arranged for several media outlets to follow him on the first day of dove-hunting season. He fired his gun, killed a bird and looked like a real woodsman until officials identified his kill as a Texas songbird, a protected species easily distinguished from doves by experienced hunters. Bush paid a $130 fine.
"If you can look like the common man and make your opponent appear out of touch, you've pretty much won the election," said Richard Shenkman, a George Mason professor who has written several books about presidential campaigning. "The American people, given the choice between reality and the myth, almost always pick the myth. . . . We tell ourselves their average day is just like ours."
Last Tuesday morning, Winschief woke up at his home in the outskirts of Lafayette and took a shower using water from the well he had helped drill a decade earlier. His wife, a nurse who works the overnight shift at a hospital for an extra $2 per hour, wouldn't return home for 30 minutes. He hadn't seen her since Saturday.
A few minutes after she returned, Winschief would leave for his shift as a waiter at O'Charley's, a family restaurant in the parking lot of the Tippecanoe Mall. The other servers are mostly college women from nearby Purdue University, and Winschief sometimes feels awkward for being "as old as everybody's dad." But this job is better than working as the overnight manager at IHOP, where he considered $1 tips generous. It's also better than bending over to bake enamel onto wires for 70 hours each week at a Lafayette factory.
"All things considered," he said, "this is probably the best job I've ever had."
Except for one major drawback: The drive to O'Charley's is 22 miles, requiring a daily total of four gallons of gas, or $15, in Winschief's old truck. Already "in debt up to my eyeballs" after buying six acres of land in New Richmond for $15,000, he never considered moving closer to Lafayette, where property costs five times as much. Plus, he grew up on an Indiana farm and he wants his kids -- ages 17, 15 and 13-year-old twins -- to fish in their own pond and drive their four-wheelers in peace.
To save money for gas, Winschief started collecting scrap metal and discarded aluminum cans from the side of the road on the way to work. Just last week, he recycled a three-pound bag of beer cans and earned $21. His kids teased him for being "pathetic" -- until he used the money to put gas in their four-wheelers.
Tuesday's lunch shift at O'Charley's dragged by in a painful lull, and Winschief sat in a booth at 4 p.m. and counted his tips. He had made about $43, a break-even sum after the round-trip drive to work and bowling. A few years ago, he considered giving up bowling to save money before deciding he would rather go broke. He met his first wife and his current wife at bowling alleys, and he spends the week looking forward to his three hours at Arrowhead.
Winschief polished off a few drinks after work, changed into a Miller Lite T-shirt and drove to the bowling alley to meet his four teammates. If they out-bowled the team from Dilley Crane Service tonight, his team would win the league title and earn back $18 in fees. "High stakes," Winschief said. "I'm not sure if this is fun or making me nervous."
As they took turns bowling, the five men talked about politics. Cliff Albea, a dissatisfied former Republican who stamps logos on cigarette packs for a grocery distributor, thought he might vote for Clinton because he liked her conviction about high gas prices. John Gilmore, a recently retired mechanic, favored Obama because "I can't really bring myself to vote for a woman." Randy Garrett, a Republican who disposes waste for a medical company, felt lucky that Sen. John McCain, the presumptive GOP nominee, could lie low while "the Democrats make fools of themselves."
Winschief decided he would probably vote for Obama, despite his unfortunate 37. "He might not be a natural bowler," Winschief said, "but at least the guy isn't afraid to see what we like and get to know us."
On a television mounted to the wall behind Winschief, the local news rolled clips from the presidential race. Clinton chatted with factory workers in Indiana. Obama sweated through his T-shirt during a pickup basketball game.
The two candidates spoke into cameras about high gas prices, and about how everybody is feeling squeezed right now. Then they were whisked off in motorcades, headed back to their private jets. They looked exhausted, like they couldn't wait for a break from Winschief's life.
