At Sturges Speakeasy in Harrisburg, the dulcet tones of Neutral Milk Hotel were playing as I nibbled on my excellent ahi tuna starter before heading to the Trump rally at the Pennsylvania Farm Arena.

It was the calm before the Trumpian storm.

There I met Larry, in a Notre Dame football T-shirt, and a few others, all Democrats, all employees of the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania, which was not surprising. It is the capital, after all. They felt good about the ascendency of Vice President Kamala Harris to presumptive Democratic Party presidential nominee, if a bit whiplashed.

TRUMP ANNOUNCES PLAN TO HOLD RALLY IN PENNSYLVANIA TOWN WHERE ASSASSINATION ATTEMPT OCCURRED

“Should the Democrats have pulled the trigger sooner, to allow for a real nominating process?” I asked.

“With hindsight, I’d say yes,” Larry, originally from the Washington DC area told me. It was a very DC answer.

It had been four years since my last Trump rally, also in Harrisburg, and the electric vibes were as charged as ever. These are truly events like no other. 

Some of the first cats I talked to were Hunter, Dakota, Hope, and Mckenzie. All but the latter were 21 years  old. McKenzie was only 20, but seemed the most mature of the group. This is their first presidential election, and they are all in for Trump. Hunter and Dakota both work at a fabrication plant — classic, old school Pennsylvania work — and they’re worried about their future.

I asked them if they felt confident that there was a good living to be made in their work, and they said yes, but that they would feel a lot more secure about it if Trump was running the country.

Not far away, I met Maxine, sitting in a row of Trump fans she had met in line, now all fast friends, a common occurrence at these events. She is a black woman in her sixties and bristled at the idea that Trump is racist.

“He doesn’t have a racist bone in his body,” she assured me. 

Not long after, I talked to Ralph, who runs a barbecue restaurant near Harrisburg.

“Ten years ago, I sold less food but made more money,” he told me, adding that inflation has really been doing a number on him.

I asked Ralph why he is for Trump, and he replied that Trump “is a no sh-t kind of guy.” 

That was the general attitude among attendees. Not all loved Trump’s brash and braggadocious style, but they think he’s authentic and is who he says he is. They seemed to have no idea who Kamala Harris really is.

Post rally, I made my way to Rubicon, a wonderful restaurant near the state capitol where, four years earlier, a friend and I had made the acquaintance of the owners, Que Que and Staci. Things were a little chillier than I expected when I re-greeted these old friends.

At Sturges, I sensed a lowering of the temperature, but not so much at Rubicon. I met another black woman in her 60s, who asked that I not use her name, and she was not just on board for Harris, but thought Trump and his supporters were, well, just straight-up racists.

When I pointed out that Biden had the backing of the Black Congressional Caucus and the Squad to stay in the race, she told me, “I felt that way too. I wish it could have happened more gently, but I’m so excited to vote for a black woman now.”

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She was an engineer, and like Harris, a graduate of a historically black college. She was the fourth generation of her family to have a degree. Her son is currently making it 5.

I asked her if she really thought that Trump and huge swaths of America are racist, and she said she did. I remembered that just two hours earlier Maxine had promised me this was not the case. Who was right?

Having wolfed down my excellent roasted figs over Manchego, the light crowd all kind of moved outside for cigarettes and after-dinner drinks.

My new friend found herself at a table with a middle-aged white couple, dog in tow, as I chatted with the owners. It got a little ugly, the woman of the couple stormed off, and I felt a little guilty for bringing beef to such a lovely establishment.

But, as is becoming a trend in my journeys across great America, my new friend gave me a ride back to my hotel. It’s a crazy thing. We all like each other so much, but we hate each other’s politics so much. Man, if we ever circle that square, it’s gonna be a hell of a country. 

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