North Carolina's New Blues

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Grappling With Transformation

Voters in North Carolina, long a staunch red state, may be changing course.

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In the tall, gleaming buildings downtown are thousands of workers who are now jittery. Even the young ones. "It's not fear for the market," said 22-year-old Alexandre Adam, who is in retail finance at Wachovia. "It's more fear for my job. I'm just starting. The worry is about a job."

There is a strangeness now to the downtown landscape, or "uptown," as it's called here. The country is said to be in the deepest economic ditch since the Great Depression. Bank of America, another pillar of financial Charlotte, swallowed up Merrill Lynch in a $50 billion takeover that was part of this mess. Wachovia is waiting for its demise to become official, its employees so pitied that the upscale restaurant Carpe Diem is offering them a $30 three-course meal called the "Wachovia Employee's Recovery Package." Meanwhile, the cranes keep churning, and they are everywhere. Construction continues on a Wachovia skyscraper that was slated to be the new corporate headquarters, on the NASCAR Hall of Fame, on the Harvey B. Gantt Center for African-American Arts and Culture. Construction work in uptown is plentiful, even as the statewide jobless rate rose to 7 percent in September, the highest since January 2002.

Dawn Cruz was outside One Wachovia Plaza on a cloudy day recently, working her Green's Lunch hot dog stand, a satellite of a longtime local institution known for having the best hot dogs. Cruz has worked there for 11 years. Typically, she'd sell 300 hot dogs a day. "Now, I'm lucky if I sell 100. . . . Some of the bigger people in the bank, they don't come out here and get hot dogs. Maybe they're too good for hot dogs."

She worries she might be out of a job when Wells Fargo comes along. "I don't know how to do nothing but hot dogs," Cruz said.

The craziness of these times can get you to thinking. The recent gas shortages, a carryover from hurricanes Gustav and Ike, led to long lines and fights at the pumps and finger-pointing at local officials.

All this drama over gas.

"I sold my vehicle and started walking," Cruz said. And walking can make you wonder. At some point, in her mind, the bigwigs not buying dogs, the depressed economy and the looming presidential election all sort of congealed into one big thought: "It is time for a change." That's what she concluded. "Anybody has got to do better than the Bushes, and I'm a Republican."

A Republican? For John McCain? "No. Because he worked under the Bushes. I'm for Obama."

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There aren't many Republicans like Dawn Cruz to be found once you head over Highway 74 into Union County, 25 miles outside of Charlotte. Traffic is annoyingly slow, as the once-sleepy county, which had one stoplight between it and Charlotte 50 years ago, is now connected by a Rockville Pike-like stretch of mattress factories, car dealerships and chain restaurants. Union continues to be the state's fastest-growing county, anchored by Jesse Helms's home town, Monroe. Right off the highway is the tribute to his legacy, the Jesse Helms Center in Wingate.

For most of the past three decades, the polarizing GOP senator shaped the state's national political image. But Helms, who died this summer, hasn't been on the ballot in 12 years. He no longer defines the state or Union County. "It's not clear that Jesse Helms could be elected in this state today," said Guillory.