It Happened on Primary Day...

Sep 17, 2009 by Juliet Linderman

11AM: The Diana Reyna Headquarters

To say Diana Reyna staffer Will Florentino has a five o’ clock shadow would be a drastic understatement. He’s downright scruffy—and so is Antonio Reynoso, another Reyna staffer. Both donning white shirts with the words, “Re-Elect Diana Reyna!” emblazoned across the front, Florentino and Reynoso are in it to win it.
“We haven’t shaved for three weeks,” a slightly less bespeckled Reynoso explained. “We’ll shave after the primary.”

The office is bustling with activity. Landline telephones are ringing off the hook and volunteers are struggling to field all the incoming calls, while cell phones are jingling in pants pockets and on tabletops, and in the palms of hands. It’s a tense time in the Reyna camp, and everybody is overextended.
Reynoso moves easily through the office crowd, making his way over to an oversized spreadsheet tacked to the wall. The spreadsheet maps out every major polling site in the district, and which volunteers will be manning which stations. It is a lesson in organization: Base camp knows exactly who is where and when, which proves to be an invaluable strategy.
“I need to know the Assembly District and the Election District immediately! Now! Please call me back with this information!” Florentino says aggressively into the receiver of his cell phone, presumably leaving somebody a very stern message. It’ll be like this all day. Florentino then walks over to a brightly-colored district map—a detailed anatomy of the neighborhood—decorated with pins and tacks, while Reynoso receives two volunteers who have wandered in off the street, with a smile.
“You have to have a lot of faith right now,” he says, taking a breath. “But we gotta work!”

12 PM: The Democratic Party Headquarters

“Everyone calls us the Machine. Well, The Machine was here until 2AM last night. But nobody wants to write about that.” Assemblyman Vito Lopez sits at a long wooden folding table in the back room of the club. He is unsurprisingly skeptical of reporters, but has other things on his mind today. His frame is slightly slumped over the tabletop as staffers in the front room furiously phone bank in front of posters advertising Steve Levin and Maritza Davila for city council, and Bill de Blasio for Public Advocate. The assemblyman is casually dressed and unusually calm—though predictably stern— considering he is running two candidates in two districts; Most of the activity is in the front room of the old clubhouse anyway, where boxes upon boxes of posters and literature are stacked on top of each other, bursting at the seams. Sprawled across the back-room desks are piles of papers and files, and the walls are decorated with brightly colored magic marker charts and graphs, under which Levin’s Campaign Manager Debby Feinberg sits, gripping the telephone receiver, fixed on her task at hand: She doesn’t even know we’re there.

12:49 PM: On the Southside

Driving through Hasidic Williamsburg, the air is full of static. The crackling sounds of a megaphone announcement bounces between the edifices lining the Southside streets. Hasidim walk along the sidewalks in their long black coats, seeming relatively unphased by the racket. “Grumble grumble grumble Steve Leveeeen” in Yiddish. After twisting through avenues and side-streets in search of the source, a moving truck decorated with Steve Levin for City Council posters—the slogan translated into Hebrew—comes into view, with a sound system attached to the roof. Then, almost instantaneously, a second truck appears: “Grumble grumble grumble Steve Leveeeen”—though this truck is decorated with Isaac Abraham for City Council Posters. They are chasing each other around the block like a dog chasing its tail, though they are clearly two very separate entities sending two very different messages to the community.

12:55 PM: The Taylor-Wythe Houses

“I don’t know what’s going on with these trucks!” says a very anxious Stephen Levin. He is standing outside of the Taylor-Wythe houses, handing out literature and greeting constituents. He has set up shop here for the better part of the day. His sleeves are rolled up and his brow is furrowed, and it’s taking everything he’s got to summon a smile.
“This day is really intense,” he says, his eyes darting back and forth to make sure he isn’t missing any opportunities to hand literature to passersby. “It’s going really quickly, but it’s intense, and we’re working really hard out here.”
Levin moves quickly and nervously, graciously accepting handshakes, hugs, kisses and praise while dodging the occasional barb from what one could only assume are Isaac Abraham supporters.
“I’m hearing the turnout is really low this year,” Levin says in reference to his chances of winning, shielding his eyes from the sun. “So it’s really hard for me to say, I really couldn’t call it. We’ll just have to see.”

1:30 PM : The Jo Anne Simon Headquarters

At the other end of Brooklyn, Jo Anne Simon’s campaign manager Kelly Donnelly is trying to keep her cool. She’s taking a short break, catching a breath of fresh air outside the campaign office in Boerum Hill. Their volunteers—of whom they have roughly 80—are mostly out of the office and in the field, canvassing on street corners and outside of polling stations, public schools and religious institutions, like everyone else. It’s undoubtedly a stressful time, but the Simon office is in high spirits.
“I mean, it’s primary day,” Says Donnelly, with a big smile. “It’s my favorite day of the year. It’s my favorite holiday. Everyone going out and voting? It’s the best!”

2:15 PM : Evan Thies

Stationed on the corner of Hicks and Poplar Streets in Downtown Brooklyn, Evan Thies means business. He’s sandwiched between volunteers from every other 33rd candidate’s campaign, all of whom are competing to be the first to chat up strangers walking by, cramming flyers into their hands, and he isn’t afraid to throw a few elbows, metaphorically speaking.
“I’m kicking ass out here today, that’s how we talk in Greenpoint!” Thies said, clearly on a primary day adrenaline high. “And you can quote me on that.”
Though shortly after Thies admits that the low turnout could be damaging to him, but remains confident in his chances.
“The higher turnout the better for a progressive candidate like me, but I really think we’re doing well.”

3:15 PM: Gerry Esposito

Back up north in Greenpoint, Gerry Esposito is knocking on doors, wearing an exquisite outfit—a three piece black suit, the jacket lined with iridescent purple and the vest embroidered, with a bright red tie. Even this early on in the day, Esposito has secured his spot as best dressed candidate in any race, city-wide included. He and two of his volunteers are knocking on doors in Williamsburg, employing his true grass-roots ethic. An honest-to-goodness neighborhood guy, Esposito believes that instead of going to the polls and approaching those who are going to vote to try and convince them to vote a certain way, he’d much rather persuade non-voters to get involved.
“We’re literally pulling out the vote!” Esposito says, making his way up the front steps of a house. He had spent the earlier part of the day at the polls. In fact, one police officer insisted that candidates and volunteers must be 1,000 feet away from any given polling station, when the rule is 100 feet.
“I went up to him and I said, ‘I don’t mean to be rude, but it’s 100 feet.’ And he looked at me and said, ‘who are you?’ and I said, ‘a candidate, and the District Manager.’
On community issues, rules and regulations, don’t mess with CB1—those guys know everything.

7:30 PM: Local reporter Aaron Short ruins primary day.

And Once the Polls Closed…

9:30 PM: Bill De Blasio After Party

The polls closed half an hour ago, and as the returns roll in, people start to file down the stairs of Water Street Bar in DUMBO, into a reception room in the basement bar. Outside there are tables littered with bright red “Bill de Blasio for Public Advocate!” posters, and inside the room is populated with supporters wearing suits and ties, press wearing jeans and t-shirts and volunteers wearing weary-and-bleary-eyed grins. The cameras start rolling, the numbers start coming in, and after a year of waiting, these races are finally on.

10 PM: Doug Biviano Headquarters

Doug Biviano doesn’t have a television so he isn’t glued to New York 1 like every other candidate, though he’s certain that he’s lost the race. His eyes are wide, his lips are pursed, and he looks as if he’s been awake for days. His volunteers, on the other hand, are enjoying the party. They ran a good race, came out of absolutely nowhere, and made an impact. They are proud of their work.
“Picture time!” one says. “We have to pose with the signs too!”
The dozens of volunteers milling around the Montague Street storefront run into the frame and arrange themselves along the back wall, in front of a mural. Biviano is nestled in the middle, and one supporter wraps his arm around him and holds a “Biviano for Brooklyn” sign in front of his chest.

“Cheese!”

10:30 PM: Jo Anne Simon After Party

At the Atlantic Bar and Grill, where Jo Anne Simon is hosting her after party, the mood quickly turns somber. The returns are in, and the margin by which Levin won the primary is a little more than surprising for some Simon supporters—2,000 votes in a single Electoral District is astonishing, to say the least. Simon clutches a bouquet of roses, and makes her rounds, hugging and kissing each and every attendee, thanking them for their vote and continued support. The front half of the room is quiet and morose, while the back half continues to chat and laugh, many of them unaware of the news, though as it begins to travel through the crowd, Simon supporters are in disbelief.

“Politics as usual,” Simon says with a smile and a chuckle. “Politics as usual.”

11 PM: Democratic Party Headquarters

Across the borough and over in Bushwick, a crowd is assembled outside the party headquarters and volunteers, supporters and press are pouring out of the front and back doors. Levin is enveloped in a crowd of Hasidim, eager to shake his hand. Once they disperse, they are replaced by photographers, all begging for a picture of him and his father, who couldn’t possibly have looked more proud.
Meanwhile, the Party Boss is right where we left him, in the back room of the clubhouse, 11 hours ago.
“This is a great victory for us,” he says. “But go talk to Stephen. He’s outside.”

11:45 PM: Diana Reyna After Party

After learning that Diana Reyna, the incumbent of the 34th district, has in fact won the primary, walking into her after party feels like a breeze. In the dim blue lights of a Southside bar, friends, family and supporters are scattered in small clusters around the bar and dance floor, anxiously awaiting her arrival. When she walks into the room, she is bombarded with hugs and kisses, and a chant immediately breaks out:
“Eight more years! Eight more years! Williamsburg, Bushwick, Ridgewood! Williamsburg, Bushwick, Ridgewood!”

The cheering dies down and the dancing begins, and as the minutes run out and into the next day the party is just getting started. Though after a day like primary day, nobody has the energy to stay out all night; and besides, for Reyna tomorrow’s a work day. She is our current councilwoman, after all.