Nelson lavishes attention on N. Fla. supporters

The Panhandle's Big Bend is where Bill Nelson was raised, and he hasn't forgotten his roots
By PAUL QUINLAN

paul.quinlan@heraldtribune.com

CHIPLEY -- Tommy McDonald Jr. keeps his home well-stocked with guns. Son of the former mayor, McDonald sits on the Chipley City Council and presides over the local chapter of the National Rifle Association. He and his wife, Republicans to the bone, say they "really like" Senate hopeful Katherine Harris.

But with a hint of guilt in his voice, McDonald said Harris ought to run for some other office. In Florida's Senate race, the couple's loyalties lie with a Democrat, incumbent Bill Nelson.

If the past is any indication, so do those of most of the voters planted in Florida's Big Bend, the crook between Pensacola and Tallahassee where Democrats outnumber Republicans but Southern conservatism reigns, ranking up there with friends and family.

And Bill Nelson has a lot of both around here -- a litter of uncles, cousins and second cousins, not to mention a syndicate of friends who sport thick Southern accents and, more importantly, also matter in the places they live.

Though Nelson marches toward a seemingly assured victory on Nov. 7, the Democratic senator's political future -- some talk of a vice presidential run in 2008 -- will depend on his ability to hold onto these rural voters, the key to Democratic victory in Florida, experts say. In 2000 and 2004, the Big Bend handed President Bush solid wins over Al Gore and John Kerry. But in 2000, they chose Nelson over his conservative Republican adversary, Bill McCollum.

In each town, he has the best kind of friends, like the McDonalds in Chipley. Consider: Chipley's population hovers at around 4,000, of which about 2,000 are registered voters. Of those, about 500 turn out at polls on Election Day. Bottom line, said McDonald, "I know everyone who votes."

Old-style politicking

In an age of message management, focus groups and talking points, nothing gets better results here than old-time politicking. And Nelson tends to these rural towns like a farmer would his prize crop.

"In this area they don't necessarily vote by party. They vote for the man, the individual," said John McDaniel, the 26-year sheriff of Jackson County. "He just hasn't forgot us all his life."

With knitted brow, Nelson listens to local leaders talk of municipal needs as though they were national crises. Though Harris derides him as the "do-nothing" senator, that's not how these people think of him.

In Chipley, Nelson helped designate an economic development zone that gives small companies a leg up in winning federal contracts. Locals noticed when David Moss, who ran his flooring business out of the back of a van, won a multimillion-dollar contract to cover floors at Tyndall Air Force Base and moved his business into a showroom.

And Nelson visits often.

"This is a special day in Gadsden County," said Chamber of Commerce President Lee Garner as he introduced Nelson to a crowd of about 40 in Quincy. "We've got somebody who knows where Gadsden County is."

The attention Nelson lavishes is repaid at the polls. Fewer than 50 percent of Floridians have a favorable opinion of Nelson, an Achilles heel that some say is offset by his Big Bend support.

"In tight races, the Panhandle can be the difference between winning and losing," said University of South Florida politics professor Susan MacManus, who said most blamed John Kerry's loss in Florida to his poor showing in the North, where turnout is always high.

"They're small towns. They're committed voters. People still see neighbors at the polling places ... and they pay a lot of attention to politics."

So Nelson pays a lot of attention to them.

"I'm here in the Panhandle because this is a part of Florida, and I represent all the people of Florida," Nelson said. "Of course, this is where my roots are."

Nelson's roots deep here

At every stop, Nelson regaled the small crowds with the story of how his forebears came to land in Florida five generations ago. As he tells it, Nelson's great-great-grandfather, a Danish sailor, got into a barroom brawl in New York and fled to the shipyard, where he hid on a boat, fell asleep and ended up a stowaway bound for Port St. Joe.

The family tree bore much fruit. Outside the Washington County Public Library in Chipley, where Nelson spoke Wednesday and where the entrance walkway's bricks list the names of a dozen Nelson family members, the senator's 94-year-old Uncle Farrell said he couldn't put a number to it.

"Oh, I wouldn't even attempt to say, there's a slew of Nelsons all over this whole country," Farrell said. In Florida, "there's hundreds. There's a bunch of Nelsons. Every second person's second cousin."

Nelson's tale of an old campaign event where he and the family stood in the bed of a pickup, with Farrell perched in a rocking chair, always earns laughs. "And then all these other people started getting up on the truck," Nelson said. "And they all were claiming to be my cousin."

But it isn't always easy, as Nelson's left leanings can sometimes grate against the local zeitgeist. Asked about immigration, Nelson spoke of tightening borders but phasing illegal immigrants into the population according to a Senate version of immigration legislation that stalled this year. By way of explanation, Nelson said that immigrants prop up agriculture, construction and tourism, all "pretty big industries in Florida."

A Republican in the audience fired back during questions.

"These folks are not bringing much in the way of skills," said Ralph Boswell. "We've got enough of our own deadbeats and derelicts."

Nelson parried. "OK, sir," he said, before quickly calling on another raised hand.

"He squirmed out of it," Susan Jefferson, another Republican in the audience, said afterward.

But Nelson always minds his manners. Not a speech goes by in North Florida where Nelson doesn't punctuate half a dozen of his points with a "thank you for the privilege." He slathers on references to "the Good Book" and recounts wisdom passed down through the Nelson clan: Never think yourself better than someone else. That sets heads nodding and draws murmurs of "Amen."

There is some thought that as the region changes and grows, these old Democratic strongholds could turn Republican, as already has happened on the western end of the Panhandle, said Aubrey Jewett, political science professor at the University of Central Florida.

"In the traditional Panhandle counties that tend to be smaller and more rural and haven't been changed much by population growth," Jewett said, "Nelson's still a successful Democrat, where other national Democrats have fallen."


Last modified: October 21. 2006 6:27AM

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