A Democrat in a rural congressional district

Follow-up, part two, to the Chris Beck event at my home

"I am not throwin' away my shot
I am not throwin' away my shot
Hey yo, I'm just like my country
I'm young, scrappy and hungry
And I'm not throwin' away my shot
It's time to take a shot."
          From "Hamilton," the song "My Shot," 2015

 

Chris Beck

The mood was resolute.

Not discouraged. No false optimism, either. Chris Beck and the 40-plus attendees understood the challenge Beck faces: trying to get elected in a solid-red rural district that has regularly rejected electable, personable, politically adept Democrats by 20-something-point margins.

Beck has become a very competent candidate. He is articulate about the problems facing the country, and he talks about them in a pleasant, slightly self-effacing manner that comes across as common-sense and natural. Certainly not bombastic. He sounds like a reasonable, politically moderate guy who says things that both Democrats and Republicans might have said 15 years ago, back before Republicans went MAGA under Trump's spell.

(What the heck happened to Republicans? Ronald Reagan, both Bush presidents, John McCain, Mitt Romney, and Oregon's Mark Hatfield, Tom McCall, and Vic Atiyeh: None of them would be welcome in today's GOP. What a shame. What a bad turn for the country.)

Beck spoke, of course. So did Democratic State Senator Jeff Golden, the incumbent in Senate District 3, a light-blue island in an otherwise bright-red 2nd Congressional District. Golden's district is the most urban part of the congressional district. The Democratic brand is weak in rural America. It isn't just the urban party. It is the condescending-to-rural-America party. 

Golden made the case I have been trying to make in this blog: This election is not about how good and capable a candidate Beck is. I am reminded of lines from the 1960s songbook, this time from the Lovin' Spoonful:

You didn't have to be so nice
I would have liked you anyway

Beck is a good candidate, but candidate quality isn't the point this year. Beck is a message, as simple and blunt as a telegram. Electing Beck is the way voters can express frustration with the Trump-led status quo. It would be the proverbial cannon shot across the bow of the Trump era. It would tell GOP officeholders in supposedly safe red districts that an era has ended.

The incumbent Republican, Cliff Bentz, staked his ground. Bentz is part of the GOP caucus that lets Trump be Trump. No objection, no criticism, no pushback. Iran war: OK. Crypto grift: OK. Cutting the Medicaid that keeps hospitals afloat: OK. Bashing vote-by-mail: OK. Pay-for-play swamp cronyism: OK. Trade wars: OK. Tariffs: OK. Ballrooms, arches, his name on buildings, his face on coins, midnight ranting tweets: OK.

And don't forget the fuel and grocery prices that come with all of it.

Trump is on the ballot. Beck is not the representative of the Democratic brand, with all its complications in rural Oregon. He is getting around the district telling people they have an alternative to the status quo. Electing Beck would send a stripped-down message: If you like Trump, vote for Cliff Bentz. If you’re sick of Trump, vote for Beck.

Beck has a shot.

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