RUNNING FOR PUBLIC OFFICE ( Part 3 )

The mathematics professor drew a blank as I tried to explain my position as a candidate to him. We were seated in his modest walk up apartment in Astoria trying to translate what I stood for into concepts the Russian people living in Queens could relate to; the talk about megastores and the plight of 300,000 Queens homeowners went right over his head. His wife, a music teacher, busied herself in the kitchen staying discretely out of sight. Their English was sketchy at best, and seemed to be the impediment roughing the transition to life in New York.

He had originally come to my office, daughter in tow - she speaks English well - and clutching a help wanted ad sent with a letter to party members. I explained the job was for Independence Party members only as only they could witness the petitions. He waited for the interpretation from his daughter, then shook his head and wryly uttered in broken English,

"Russian people do not join political parties".

"If you received the letter, then you must be a party member" I said, opening a book of Enrolled Independence Party Voters to the Thirty-Sixth AD and pushing it towards him. His finger ran quickly down the columns as if matter of fact to prove me wrong, and then he gasped in astonishment. There was his name, and that of his wife. His daughter sat all the while looking like a cat that ate the canary. She had filled out her parents voter's registrations and checked off party affiliations of her own personal preference, the Independence Party.

Now I was in his living room tripping over my tongue trying to explain why I was running in terms that made sense to him, and other Russian immigrants. "Look Vyacheslav, my opponent has been in office twelve years, and wants to stay there until they carry her body out. To do this, she wants all the ballot lines, including the Independence Party line so you can't vote for anyone else but her. You know, like they did in Russia - one candidate elections."

Again, nutation and a wry smile, "Ah, this they will understand".

As of late, there's been a rash of one candidate elections in Queens. It's no secret that Queens County is in the grip of an old fashioned political machine, and the effects are obvious. Mayor Giuliani has designated 54 new megastore sites for New York City - 48 are in Queens. The disparity, linked with huge campaign finance contributions, and the largest lobbying effort in the city's history, are very disturbing significations. The Queens machine, emboldened by fat developer handouts, feels it has enough control to stifle public wrath, and avoid public accountability without serious consequences to itself. Property owners of Glendale and Forest Hills, fed up with apocryphal political rhetoric, retained an attorney to stop construction of a Home Depot at Forest Park North, and in an effort to obtain a fair hearing, the case will be filed in Manhattan, not Queens courts. The State Senator for the affected district ran unopposed in last year's election, and in this year's City Council election, the incumbent Republican for the district will run unopposed; so powerful a political manipulator is Home Depot. We are subjugated to the will of old fashioned, cigar chomping backroom dealers rendering democracy in Queens County nonexistent. If the ballot box is not the place for dissent then where. . .? How does the voter fight back? He hasn't yet. But then again, remember the sixties. . . .

In order to qualify for the ballot, I have been traveling the borough asking Independence Party members to sign my designating petition. To my surprise, I have been meeting many first time voters who are curious about third party politics, asking penetrating questions, and are anxious to get involved. Youth, for some unforseen reason, is flocking to the Independence Party. The rate of this party's growth is astonishing - and by far, the majority is under 21 years old. The party leadership has done nothing deliberate, or even by accident, that warrants this trend, it appears to have coalesced out of thin air. Perhaps the same dynamic that attracted youth of the Sixties into a vast unstructured, yet somehow harmonious movement is again at work. Again society is floundering politically, and the older generation is perceived as having sold out for quick stock market gains and easy credit; a generation allowing freedom to erode in return for handfuls of plastic cards; for this, they eschew the important task of bringing politicians to heal, a generation too busy amusing itself to rule itself. The result is of course a nation of milk-cows, tethered into a herd sporting gilded collars, infused with Murdoch mush, hand rubbed by Zukerman rags, milked dry, and tossed just enough fodder for day to day yields; the abundance carried off by a few manipulators who control everything. Youth, mulish and recalcitrant, well educated and restive, rebels against the awaiting cast, rejects the absurdities of established order as a flawed future, and the Independence Party - brand spanking new, nonaligned and in flux - is the vehicle of choice. I found myself continually shaking hands with Jr. and not Sr. at the front door. Several weeks of petitioning around the borough has been a revelation, and a restoration of faith and fascination for American politics. Before anyone can subjugate this land, they must first conquer youth, and that is like trying to catch lightning in a bottle.