Bloomberg eyes Super Tuesday
Ahead of the biggest day to date in the Democratic primary, Ben Stanley attends a Mike Bloomberg rally in Memphis.
Michael Bloomberg shifts at the podium and glances across at his teleprompter. ‘‘If you want someone who talks turkey . . . ’’ he says, pausing for effect.
For a fleeting moment, the billionaire former New York City mayor surveys the scene in Minglewood Hall, a renovated former bread factory in Memphis, Tennessee.
The crowd is silent, expectant. Taken as a group, they are older and whiter than Memphis writlarge, which is twothirds AfricanAmerican.
Campaign placards, waving minutes ago, are tucked under armpits.
‘‘ ... marginal,’’ Bloomberg says, with a half-grin and a bob of the head. The crowd ripples, but doesn’t catch the corn the candidate is tossing out.
Unperturbed, Bloomberg continues: ‘‘[And] someone who has a record of accomplishment on all the big issues taking our country, and if you want someone who has the resources to beat Trump, that’s me.’’
That’s Bloomberg, all right; the world’s ninth-richest man on the campaign trail in Tennessee in the most expensive primary campaign American politics has ever seen.
After stating last March he wouldn’t run for the Oval Office, the 78-year-old former three-term New York mayor climbed into the ring last November, joining a crowded Democratic field that has since tried its best to swallow itself.
Bloomberg’s calculations have been clear from the get-go; through a bigmoney media campaign, he can present himself as a boring but reliable hand on the till, divorced from DC like former vice-president Joe Biden – but not as far Left as senators Bernie Sanders or Elizabeth Warren.
A steady beat on the gunreform drum, Bloomberg, whose wealth is estimated at about US$60 billion (NZ$96b), spent big money before the 2018 midterms to help the Democrats take the House of Representatives back from Trump’s Republicans.
More selfishly, the cash has continued to be splashed since November. After forgoing a place in the first handful of primaries, Bloomberg has thrown more than US$500 million – around NZ$300m more than the Labour Government’s impressive investment into mental health in last year’s Budget – at television radio and digital advertising.
Flick on the TV here and, after a while, you’re virtually guaranteed to see his face. His most recent wave of adverts, likely launched in response to criticism surrounding nondisclosure agreements he has with several women, paint him as a kind of feminist champion.
Bloomberg’s money tsunami will finally reach its shore next week, when the Super Tuesday series of primaries arrive. Democrats in 14 states, including California and Texas, will vote on their preferred presidential nominees on Wednesday (NZ time).
Polls show Sanders and Biden as the favourites across the board, although Bloomberg has sneaked into third in a few states, including Tennessee. A pair of flat debate performances in February – his only two debate appearances of the cycle so far – seemed to stall what momentum he had earlier in the year.
Bloomberg’s approach isn’t for everyone. Will Borden is one of the doubters. The 27-year-old was among a dozen or so protesters with placards at Bloomberg’s appearance in Memphis.
Holding a sign that read ‘‘Oligarch’’, Borden, who will likely vote for Sanders or Warren this coming week, believed that Bloomberg’s billions should disqualify him from a shot at the White House.
‘‘The only reason he is in the running is because of his bank account – it’s a farce,’’ he says. ‘‘Like Trump, he’s very, very corrupt – he’s not a better option.’’
Fifteen minutes in line awaited those who were more willing to have their ear bent, and several hundred eventually made their way into the hall, located across the street from a dive bar named – rather ironically – The Poor & Hungry.
After a brief warm-up act from Memphis mayor Jim Strickland, Bloomberg made his way on to the stage in the first of three Tennessee visits yesterday. Clarksville and Johnson City would follow. Signs are flashed: ‘‘I Like Mike’’. ‘‘Mike 2020’’. ‘‘West Rural TN For Mike’’.
Two things you should know about Bloomberg on the stump. Firstly, he isn’t as short as Trump’s ‘‘Mini Mike’’ Twitter taunts. Secondly, he lacks presence and provides a campaign speech that contains, in sporting terms, a handful of long-range hoops – but nothing spectacular around the net.
His eyes were trained on two teleprompters for much of his 21-minute speech. There were no off-the-cuff moments. The jokes were staid and local references underwhelming.
‘‘I don’t make pie in the sky promises that I can’t keep,’’ he said. ‘‘I don’t talk until the cows come home. As you’ve seen in the debates, I’m not someone who just yells a slogan.
‘‘Today New York is doing well just like Memphis is doing,’’ he said.
‘‘We all have our problems . . . we just can’t take our eye off the ball and our foot off the gas. At least when you’re going in the right direction, you’re going in the right direction.’’
Bloomberg shook a few hands in front of the stage before doing the same in the B-Side bar and, then, he was gone.
Minglewood Hall cleared out. An amateur mixed martial arts tournament was scheduled for the following night. Outside, the anti-Bloomberg protesters were still holding their signs and braving the elements.
Borden had swapped his placard for a new one. It read: ‘‘Another Sexist, Racist Billionaire Trying to Buy This Country’’.
The few hundred who’d turned out to hear Bloomberg speak were on the way home. Around the protesters, there were neither people to argue with their point, nor agree.