Several years ago, I was darting around the Baltimore metropolitan area, covering a slew of Election Night campaign headquarters. Some places were overflowing with volunteers and supporters, brimming with food, drinks and assorted revelry; other venues were decidedly more somber, austere and sparsely populated.
Guess it all depended on your candidate and how she or he was doing that night.
At one stop in Pikesville, I walked around, said hello to familiar faces and asked folks the typical questions — “Do you think your candidate will win?” “What are the critical issues?” “How’s the onion dip?” All of these queries were sporadically interrupted by updates of different races broadcasted on nearby screens. You’d often see the TV correspondents themselves at these gatherings, well-coiffed and considerably more polished and better dressed than their print counterparts.
At this Pikesville headquarters, I was in the middle of interviewing someone, asking my perfunctory Election Night questions, when I noticed a man nearby glaring at me. He eventually walked up and asked if I worked for a particular news organization.
“Yes sir, I do,” I responded. He proceeded to tell me that my publication failed to fulfill its civic duty as a Jewish periodical by not endorsing a local candidate who happened to be Jewish. You could tell he was seething.
I explained that we endorsed candidates based on their merits and records, not their faith. That answer seemed to satisfy him momentarily, but as I walked around the room he continued to stare at me, seemingly trying to strike terror into the marrow of my being.
A few minutes later, I chatted with a young photographer who at some point said, “Hey, why is that old dude across the room looking at you like that?”
I walked over and politely asked the man if he had another question for me. He appeared startled at first, but said, “No, but I’ve got a problem with you and your rag.” He then said, in front of his wife and friends, that he was thinking of doing something physically to me that’s not actually anatomically plausible.
At that point, I dropped my professional veneer and responded in a manner that probably shouldn’t be printed in a family publication. I don’t know where those words came from, and I’m not proud of them, but that’s what I said. The man immediately averted his eyes from mine and went back to stirring his drink. From there, he left me alone.
During the past couple of years, we’ve seen how politics can bring out the absolute worst in human nature. Elected officials and candidates who say, write and tweet whatever they want in a mean-spirited, disparaging and juvenile fashion. Their charges and supporters, at the ready, to spread slander, lies and bigotry. And truth be told, many of us in the media have been unwilling to hide our partisan preferences, long abandoning any semblance of objectivity.
The ugliness and lack of civility I saw that evening in Pikesville has deeply infected our political system on a national scale. In this issue of Jmore, you’ll read about statewide and local candidates who hopefully can help build dialogue and consensus. For the sake of our democracy, we must simply try to dial down the vitriol and work together in some fashion.
Sincerely,
Alan Feiler
Editor-in-Chief
Only when we see the bigger picture do we understand that God has a bigger plan, writes Rabbi Dr. Eli Yoggev.
Former Baltimorean Mindy Sager Dickler, who made aliyah in 2021, writes about the experience of living in Israel over the past week.
The city’s not a winner when little girls can’t walk through a shopping mall with their mothers without getting shot, writes Michael Olesker.
When interviewing for a job, focus on everything you have to offer a prospective employer, advises Karen Hammer of the Ignite Career Center.