First, let’s get this out of the way: I voted for Eldridge Cleaver for President, in, what was it, 1968?
That was when I was living in Ann Arbor, and had been hard at work for at least 4 years trying to end the war in Vietnam.
I was one of the many who worked to dump Lyndon Johnson for being a despicable war-monger, and we were gleeful when he announced that he wouldn’t run again.
I also, however, despised Hubert Humphrey for being a war-monger, which he was, like many good Democratic liberals in those days, though I also despised Nixon for that reason and many others.
I wasn’t properly conscious of what Johnson had accomplished for civil rights. (What have you done for me lately?)
In those days Michigan, thanks to a powerful United Auto Workers union, was a reliably Democratic state, and the polls predicted that Humphrey would take its electoral votes, so I knew my vote for Peace and Freedom candidate Cleaver was a safe protest.
But as it happened in later years, the dashing Mr. Cleaver turned out even worse than either Humphrey or Nixon—at least neither of them became a conservative Republican or even a Mormon.
After that I was one of the early organizers of the Michigan campaign for Shirley Chisholm, running in the Democratic primary against George McGovern in 1972 as both the first woman and the first African-American to be a candidate for a major party nomination. I though he was a wuss, and she was a heroine with powerful appeal to both my feminist and my civil rights activist instincts.
We did a respectable job in that race, getting 5% of the primary vote statewide ( more in Ann Arbor), and she never did anything later to embarrass us. I was proud of her then and I’m proud of her now.
The next year I worked on the campaign of Ann Arbor mayoral candidate Benita Kaimowitz, the standard-bearer for the newly-minted Human Rights Party, a left alternative to the Democrats and Republicans, who also got about 5% of the vote. The HRP eventually had a fair amount of success in Michigan electoral offices and changed its name to Socialist, but by that time I’d moved to Berkeley, where every candidate claimed to be an authentic progressive, and I lost interest in electoral politics. I could no longer be a five-percenter.
I only rejoined the fray when “progressive” elected officials promoted a ballot measure criminalizing spare-changing by homeless people, an outrageous violation of the First Amendment. We stopped that one in court, but I decided it was time to pay attention to what the progressive label had become.
I recite all of these tedious creds to prove that my reluctance to jump on the Bernie bandwagon is not because I’m afraid to stick my neck out.
-more-