On the Campaign Trail
Sophomore Tom Pappas wants YOU to vote for him in the Indiana State House of Representatives
A three-hour drive back to his hometown,door-to-door canvassing in freezing rain, fundraising efforts — all in a suit and tie. Not your typical Notre Dame student’s Saturday. But then again, sophomore political science and classics major Tom Pappas (or Thomas Konstantine Pappas, as the ballot will say on May 6) is not your typical Notre Dame student.
“I’ve always had a deep sense of public service,” Pappas says. “I was looking around, looking to see how to become a state delegate to the Indiana Democratic Party convention, and I noticed that no one was running against Bob Behning [16-year Republican incumbent running for the District 91 seat in the House of Representatives]. So I thought, well, I’ll file against him, because there should be a choice. There should be democracy, and I think this is a job I can do.”
Pappas thought he would face off against Behning in the election in November. A challenger for the Democratic nomination in the May 6 primary, however, arose in the form of Democrat Timothy Huber, a local carpenter who ran against Behning in 2006. “I was like, ‘Game on, Mr. Huber,’” Pappas says, grinning.
And game on it was. Pappas has traveled home most weekends since he announced his candidacy on March 8. He participated in debates, held a pizza meet-and-greet for constituents and, most importantly, engaged in some good, old-fashioned “retail politics” — door-to-door canvassing, pavement pounding and flier distribution to make his name, face and message known to the voters. On one such mission, Pappas climbs out of his silver Ford Focus stationwagon in a neighborhood in Plainfield, Ind., just outside of Indianapolis. His communications director, Megan Clayton, a sophomore political science and journalism major at Indiana University, and I scramble out behind him.
“She’s here to make sure I don’t stay at the door too long,” Pappas says jokingly. And, from what I can tell, to scold Pappas whenever he swears and to shoot me a pleading glance that clearly means, “That’s off the record.”
We approach the first house of the day, and they tell me they have hit about 400 houses in the past two weeks. District 91 is a heavily Republican area, and Pappas usually starts by introducing himself and his primary issues — property tax equity, streamlining local government and education reform — without mentioning his party designation.
A 30-something woman in a pink T-shirt answers the door, a yipping Yorkshire terrier under her right arm. Pappas launches into his spiel as the woman listens, glancing alternatively between his face and the flier he handed her. When Pappas pauses for a breath, the woman blurts out, “How old are you?”
Pappas laughs and tells her he is 20 years old, and a college student. But he goes on to explain that he is serious about his candidacy and especially about Indiana’s rising property tax, which he says has been a struggle in his own home. This leads to a conversation about what Pappas plans to do about the property tax if elected, and Pappas and Clayton walk away from the house saying they feel good about the exchange.
One of our next encounters is not so friendly. Glancing at Pappas’ flier, the man who answers the door says, “Wrong side of the island, buddy,” and slams the door shut. We all laugh and shrug it off — on to the next constituent.
We notice a freakishly high number of broken doorbells in the neighborhood; they are cracked and tend to stick if you aren’t careful. We approach one with a working doorbell, and Clayton expresses hope: “Maybe this one will be a Democrat.” Pappas eyes the un-broken doorbell and says, “Probably a Republican; they can afford to have their doorbell fixed.” Clayton yelps, “Tom!” and shoots me the look.
Soon we’re playing this game at almost every house. Energy-saving light bulbs? “Democrats!” Pappas and Clayton say gleefully in unison. We encounter more unanswered doors with raucous dogs rather than people inside, and Pappas struggles to shove a flier in the crack of a door with brand new weather stripping (Republicans). “Weather stripping is our worst enemy,” Pappas says.
As we walk back to the car, Pappas and Clayton get into a discussion about home ownership that I barely follow, and it concludes as Pappas sighs and says, “But, that’s a federal issue.”
“You’ll get there,” Clayton says, and I ask Pappas about his eventual aspirations. He says he’d like to serve in the state legislature for two years and then go to law school, so he can learn “to serve in a greater capacity.” He says in 10 years, he’d like to be representing Indiana in the U.S. Congress or serving as the governor of Indiana.
We go back to the Pappas household to get directions to a house where Pappas needs to pick up a campaign contribution. They are working on raising the $600 needed to purchase 250 yard signs.
Pappas has Clayton call his high school government teacher who has said he might contribute. “When’s the last time you called him?” Pappas’ mother says from the living room.
“About three hours ago,” Pappas says, grinning. “Oh, Tom!” his mother says in exasperation. Pappas shrugs. “I’m persistent.” His mother shows, however, that she is proud of her son’s dedication. “He’s always been ambitious. He’s much better than any of the other candidates, we know that,” she says. “Not that I’m prejudiced.”
We leave, pick up a check, and then head to Pappas’ high school German teacher’s home. She and her husband invite us in to sit down, and immediately she and Pappas start chattering in German. All I manage to catch is “wunderbar,” and she’s pulling out her checkbook. Clayton and I exchange a “when did that happen?” look.
They discuss the evils of the No Child Left Behind Act and how many weeks Grace and Max (her children, who Pappas knows by name) spend taking standardized tests instead of being taught. “By the time I run for governor, you’ll be able to vote for me,” Pappas says to Max, and Max agrees that he will. “Gotta get ’em young,” Pappas says.
Our last visit is to the home of an ex-lobbyist who is also the mother of one of Pappas’ friends. “You have my vote,” she says. “I always thought you’d make a good politician. I totally expected you to run for office. Though not this soon.” She tells Pappas that the legislature needs “smart, young minds — people who will make a difference.” She also says to keep her posted, and she will consider making a contribution to his campaign.
All in all, it’s a successful day on the campaign trail. I make the drive back to campus around 6 p.m., but Pappas and Clayton keep working and tell me that they ended up with $800 in campaign funds at the end of the day.
Later in the week, I sit down with Political Science Professor Peri Arnold to discuss Pappas’ chances. “When I first heard this, I thought, ‘that’s bizarre,’” Arnold says. “You think most students are more concerned about their academic performance, or, in a worse case, having time to drink beer, than having time to run for office.”
If Pappas wins the primary on May 6, he will have to juggle classes in the fall with a campaign season for the general election. If he wins in November, he will have to take a leave of absence from the university during the spring semesters of 2009 and 2010 to attend the legislative sessions. But Arnold says he thinks it will be a great learning experience for Pappas, win or lose.
“People who win office tend to have lost races before that,” Arnold says. “The former Congressperson in this district, Tim Roemer, did a Ph.D. at Notre Dame, and I was his director. It was his second or third year in grad school, and I remember he told me he was going to run for the state House in Indiana. I told him he was crazy. Why are you wasting your time? And he lost. And he finished his dissertation, and he went to Washington, came back a few years later, and ran for this congressional seat and won. So, in other words, you begin, typically, by losing the race, and so I think this would hold Tom in good stead, if in fact he gets a taste out of this for wanting to do more.”
Maybe Pappas’ choice of how to spend his Saturdays isn’t so bizarre after all.
