A stubborn insistence

“The truth is, I am an unlucky honest man that speaks my sentiments to all and with emphasis,” reads a banner quoting Alexander Hamilton. It hangs proudly over a case of Hamilton’s writings about his infidelities at the National Constitution Center. I find some solace in knowing that for all the scandals and outrage that seems to plague our current politics, Hamilton had his own sex scandal and the nation turned out fine. Sometimes, it’s the little things. The Constitution Center is filled with little gems like this that make up for the fact that the constitution itself is not actually in the museum. In many ways the museum's focus is on personifying the words on the short document that shape the nation, highlighting the WE in ‘we the people.’ America, as it describes it in their Ted Talk-esque introduction, is defined by “a stubborn human insistence on independence.” A stubborn insistence—there really is nothing more American than that.

I walk around independence hall and the liberty bell and recount the last time I stood on these hallowed grounds, the night before the 2016 election. I worked the final rally for the Clinton campaign as some 50,000 people gathered to hear not just Hillary but Bill, Barack, Michele and Bruce Springsteen. A mix of nostalgia and sadness overcame me as I walked the mall, if only we had known what was to come. Sigh. ​

​ The next day I took a guided tour of Philadelphia City hall, which I cannot recommend enough. It was as if I had been transported to a palace in the south of France, but all the busts were replaced with William Penn and Benjamin Franklin. “we have lost our culture of reasoning,” one veteran told me as we sat in the tour waiting room. He wore khaki pants, a khaki jacket, and a khaki cap; he was taking a celebratory trip from his home in New Jersey to commemorate the 75th anniversary of his being drafted into the army. He told me stories of his own travel across the country as a young man, a time when room and board could run you 10 cents, “Are you finding good rates?” he asked me. And I thought I was until I heard the 10 cents story! We weaved through the elaborate city hall, dodging the bureaucrats as we stared at the intricate pediment statues towering above or the four columns that depict individuals from the four major continents working together to bear the weight of the structure. Our guide pointed out how the courtyard that opens to the streets used to be the throughway for police vehicles that would drop of the accused at the courthouse in city hall. That portion of the building has wrought iron work depicting the scales of justice as well as lions, snakes, and monstrous figures intended to strike fear into the hearts of the accused. The place is magnificent and would cost nearly $2.4 billion to build today (if you know of any cities with $2.4 billion, please send them my resume.)

Afterward, I spoke with Terry, who had been on the tour with me. He was born and raised in the outskirts of Philadelphia and attended Drexel University in the 80’s before he started working in real estate. Terry is a fascinating man, and we ended up talking for nearly an hour and a half. Terry wears a thick brown Indian Jones hat that I later learned he wears because of an intense experience with skin cancer, he chews on a toothpick while we talk, reclining in his metal chair, feet up on a wooden box. He describes Philadelphia as profoundly influenced by the Quaker tradition that started the city with William Penn, something that keeps the town pretty tame, “everybody kind of goes along to get along.” This fact, he says, does not apply to the police who are of a “kick ass first, take prisoners later,” mentality, his disdain for the police is clear. Later in our conversation, he tells me, “I empathize with these Black Live Matter guys, these cops can be real mother fuckers.” He credits public/private partnerships with cleaning up a once desolate city, “our schools suck, the city’s broke, but I’ll tell you it’s really cleaned up.” “Some pros about the city? Well it’s not New York, and it’s not Washington,” he jokes, “I don’t know where the jobs are, but a lot of you millennials are moving to the city. He speaks sporadically, switching back and forth on a wide range of subjects, from this influx in millennials to a diatribe about gentrification: “urban renewal is when the government takes your tax money and builds low-income housing and people move in and don’t give a shit,” he tells me, “gentrification is when white guys like me spend their own money and turn it around.” He blames the mayor for much of the cities issues, “he’s just a drunk Irishman, I mean I’m Irish, and he’s a drunk Irishman, he tells me, “They never cut expenses, just raise taxes.” “I think everything’s going really well,” Terry tells me on the state of national politics. “Money can solve a lot of problems,” he notes, suggesting his business background has made him see the failings of our national politics as a failure to run the country like a business. Trump is shaking things up as a successful businessman would, Terry thinks, “If something hasn’t worked for 70 years, why not,” he says emphatically, saying later I like the fact that he’s rattling the status quo.” “All problems revolve around not enough money, or were spending too much,” he outlines, and when it comes to foreign policy, “it’s time for the rest of the world to pay the piper,” noting the outsized portion of NATO funding that comes from the US. “I like that [Trump] rattled the G-7,” we should be focusing more on America and not these other allied nations, Terry believes, “he’s our president, not theirs.” Terry keeps a running list of the Presidents accomplishments that are not being covered by the mainstream media, “it’s a solid two pages,” he tells me, motioning to its length with his hands. “The tax cuts will pay dividends,” he insists, and on immigration, “why aren’t we trying to fix the shithole countries, and they really are shithole countries.” Terry believes that focusing on fixing issues in Mexico and South America could prevent many of our current immigration issues, an approach he believes the President is championing. “ Terry colors President Obama as a “President of appeasement,” who ran the country like he was still a community organizer who had never worked a real job a day in his life. Terry doesn’t think liberal policies are working anywhere across the country, “Have you been to California,” he asks me, “it’s the cesspool of humanity,” which I believe is a veiled reference to their immigrant community. “You wanna be a sanctuary state? Good! I don’t want them here.” “I don’t think he’s done anything bad,” Terry notes on Trump's alleged scandals, “I think he’s clean.” Terry uses as evidence the fact that Trump has been under public scrutiny for years and never gotten in trouble with the law, as well as the fact that he was cleared to build casinos in Atlantic City. But these views are not something he often brings up in a liberal city like Philadelphia, “Conservative people in this city keep their mouths shut. You don’t say anything bad about Obama or any of his failed programs.” The discourse of young people he finds troubling, noting a bar fight he was almost a part of with some supporters of Bernie Sanders, “these young kids, you better be on their side.” It’s a generational shift he sees occurring across the country in what is acceptable to disagree about. “It's your job to convince me of your perspective,” he notes, and vice versa. Terry tells me about his upcoming trip to Europe, which is why he has started rereading Mein Kampf, “its just as relevant today.” He knows people look down on reading the book, “oh it's like reading the devils book,” he says in a mocking tone. “Hitler was about saving the heritage of the country,” Terry notes, “Hitler didn’t invent killing the Jews, Social Darwinism was a very popular belief at the time.” The conversation is now moving in a very dark direction, but Terry remains upbeat, spewing off these facts like this a commonplace discussion to be having. He pivots quickly to Planned Parenthood, moving so quickly between concepts that you would have thought Hitler had started Planned Parenthood as well. Terry has read that PP was started to eliminate the black race and practice eugenics in America, “They don’t provide much in the way of healthcare, just abortions,” he has learned from YouTube videos. “I wish we had more discourse where people didn’t want to screw each other,” he tells me, noting how much he enjoys being able to speak with me about his ideas, knowing full well I disagree with him. “The state of democracy is always in turmoil, and I think that the way our founding father wanted it.” With that reassuring notion, Terry and I part ways, with promises that he will email me his list of Trump accomplishments in the coming days. I find this conversation deeply confusing; Terry was honestly delightful. He wears a jaunty hat, he is educated and well versed on the issues, but then delves into what I believe are pretty fringe conspiracy theories. He says racist things and promotes racists concepts but notes how much he loves the diversity of the city, citing his Indian and Asian American friends. He supports Trump, doesn’t believe the fake news, and loves tax cuts, but sympathizes with Black Lives Matter activists. My head hurts.

I continue walking through city hall when I come across an event in its central courtyard. It is a rally for juvenile justice reform that includes young “expert witnesses,” kids who have dealt with police brutality, parole officers, and child protective services. After they testify they meet in round tables in the plaza with community leaders and police officers, they have made art about their experiences that hang around the courtyard, a makeshift gallery for justice. I am in awe of these young people and the community organizers; it is refreshing to see after such a troubling conversation with Terry. As I lean against the barricades that surround the event, leaning in close to hear what the round tables discuss, a man with thick black glasses and a black ball cap does the same, and we start to chat. “In the 70’s they used to cart people right through here, in shackles, and take them into the courthouse right there,” he tells me, pointing to the area I had passed on my tour that morning. He knows this to be the case because he was one of those shackled men, passing the lions on the iron doors. In 1973 he was arrested for crimes related to his gang affiliation, he was 15 at the time. On December 5, 1974, he was sentenced to life in prison. In March of this year, much to his surprise, he was released on parole. After 45 years in jail, he was free. “This is my second chance at life, I’m trying to reintegrate with society,” he smiles. It is easier said than done, when he was sent upstate, the country was a very different place, “I didn’t even know what a computer was,” he laughs. He shows me the resume someone typed up for him this morning, listing out the GED he received while locked up and the various work positions he held throughout his time including his stint as a boxing instructor. “You box?” I ask him, “oh I did,” he laughs, putting up his fists. “I got a piece of main that said I can vote,” he tells me, “I can vote?” he remembers asking in glee. He missed the primaries, but he assures me that he will be voting in the upcoming election, a completely new experience for him, a point of pride. “All this is new to me, and it’s all a blessing. I’m actually standing in the place that sent me to jail.“ We both grow quiet as he stares again at the courthouse. He comes to city hall every day and walks around, he is free to do whatever he pleases now, but he comes back to the spot that took away that freedom 45 years ago. We listen as the kids, no older than he was when he went to jail, work with police officers to talk about alternatives to incarceration. These people could have helped him, “I hope these kids know when they say life, they mean it, he tells me, even though he got out, “it was my life.”