A swing through divided Wisconsin

Daniel Miller calls Richland Center “the dipstick of America.”

“The people in Richland County [which includes Richland Center] have voted for the candidate that won the presidential election for 100 years,” says Miller, the owner of Ocooch Books & Libations, an independent bookstore and wine shop. “Anything going on in the country is going on here.” 

Miller is my first stop on a five-day trek to gauge the electorate in swing areas of Wisconsin and he’s a little off on his numbers. Richland County has sided with the winning presidential candidate for the last 44 years, not 100. But the county is still a decent bellwether for how the political winds blow in Wisconsin. A majority of voters there cast a ballot for Democratic Gov. Tony Evers in 2018, President Donald Trump in 2016, former Republican Gov. Scott Walker in all three of his successful gubernatorial bids, and twice for President Barack Obama. 

Miller, who says his family helped found the Republican Party in the mid-1850s, launches into a comprehensive political history of the Driftless region: the massacre of Indigenous people in the Black Hawk War; its origins as the birthplace of progressive politics that made Fightin’ Bob La Follette a national figure; and the home of suffragist and reformer Ada James. He also thinks famed architect Frank Lloyd Wright, born in Richland Center, is a total hack. But there’s no time for that. There’s an election! 

Miller believes part of the reason Richland County sided with Trump in 2016 is because voters there don’t have strong ties to either political party and were targets of Russian misinformation campaigns. That, and backlash to eight years of Obama.

“There were people who hardly ever voted who found themselves with a Black president and gay marriage,” says Miller. “Some of that is still going on right now.” 

He says he regularly polls his neighbors to try to get a sense of how Richland Center will vote in 2020. What’s different now from four years ago? 

“I see women saying to their husbands, ‘Don't come home if you vote for Trump.’ I think some people had been convinced by some of Trump’s bullshit in 2016,” says Miller. “What’s changed is they never believed a president could lie this much. So I do think Biden will win this area and it’s because women have had enough.” 

Joe Biden has held a consistent four- to five-point lead since August in the Marquette Law School polls — a lead within the margin of error. In 2016, most polls showed Clinton with a slight edge in Wisconsin. Trump won the state by less than 23,000 votes. 

Remarkably, 23 counties in the state that voted twice for Obama went for Trump in 2016. There are 206 counties in the U.S. with that distinction out of more than 3,000. Isthmus visited seven of these “pivot counties” and several others that voted blue in 2008 but turned red in 2012 and even more red in 2016. In 13 counties in western Wisconsin and the Northwoods — the focus of Isthmus’ report — Obama won by a margin of around 29,000 votes in 2008. When Trump was on the ballot, he won the same counties by 19,000 votes — a shift to the right of nearly 50,000. 

If turnout in the Democratic stronghold of Milwaukee County is down — as it was four years ago — voters in these swing, mostly rural parts of Wisconsin could once again help decide the presidential race for the entire nation. 

It’s happened before. In 2016, the state delivered the 10 electoral votes that put Trump over the 270 threshold needed to win the electoral college. There are only a few paths to re-election for the president, several of which run through Wisconsin.

Isthmus attempted to interview more than 100 voters outside of Main Street shops, cafes, bars, grocery stores and more than one Walmart. Many politely declined to be interviewed or said they weren’t voting at all. Some just said they were voting for Biden or Trump and walked away. At the Viroqua food co-op, one man in a truck with “I pledge allegiance to the flag, one nation under God” written on the tailgate, gave Isthmus a drive-by interview. 

“Go home,” shouted the man, before peeling out of the parking lot. 

Outside of Borgens Cafe in Westby, in Vernon County, people are less keen to talk politics than Richland Center’s Miller. One passerby grunts, “Trump” when asked about the election and keeps walking. Stephanie, who is smoking outside a nearby bar, agrees to talk but doesn’t want to give her last name.

“I never voted to be honest. Both Biden and Trump seem like dipshits,” says Stephanie, a bartender who occasionally works as a dancer at strip clubs when money is tight and looks to be in her 20s. “My dad is a cop so I don’t like Biden because of all that stuff going on with Black Lives Matter.”

Stephanie isn’t sure she’ll vote this time around but her family is urging her to vote for Trump on Nov. 3. 

“I know I wouldn’t have voted for Hillary [in 2016] because she is shady as fuck. Didn’t she kill somebody and lie about it?” she asks, referencing the conspiracy theories surrounding the suicide of Vince Foster in 1993. “But I don’t think Trump is a good role model either.”

Voters in Monroe County, an electorate of around 20,000, delivered a comfortable 53 percent win for Obama in 2008. But Democrats have been losing ground ever since. In 2012, Republican Mitt Romney carried the county by 165 votes, not even a full percentage point. In 2016 Trump received 4,300 more votes in Monroe than Clinton with 58 percent — a jump of 22 points for the GOP in just four years. 

Harry Shawley owns a consignment shop in Sparta, the largest city in Monroe County. He isn’t aligned to any party and hasn't decided who he is voting for this year. 

“I go by which [candidate] seems best for the country. Right now...I’m not sure,” says Shawley. “I don’t trust either one of them.” 

He is especially wary of Biden’s vice-president pick, California Senator Kamala Harris. 

“I could live with either of the two guys,” says Shawley, referring to Biden and Trump. “But Kamala. I don’t trust her as far as I can chuck her. She’s trouble.” When I ask why Harris is trouble, he says she’s a radical leftist. But his dislike of Kamala is particularly concerning because he sees 77-year-old Biden as “super old.” 

He says his wife and father are Republicans and fully on board the Trump train. His daughter doesn’t like the president’s abrasive style and that Trump “doesn’t have a filter.” Shawley seems to agree when pressed. 

Ought the leader of the free world have a filter? 

“A little bit,” laughs Shawley, thinking it over. “Probably a good idea.” 

Main Street is quiet in the city of Trempealeau and a haze floats up off the Mississippi River. A green yard sign says “Vote” next to the historic Trempealeau Hotel. Just up the block there is a small campaign sign for Trump. Directly across the street is a handmade placard that reads “Never TrumPutin.” 

There aren’t any people walking around but In The Making gift shop is open. Owner Amy Brenengen says she’s not very political.

“Thank God most people don’t bring up politics in the store,” says Brenengen. “I’d have to shoo them out the door.”

Emily, the young barista at the coffee shop across the street, is a little more forthcoming when asked how she thinks Trempealeau will vote in November. 

“I think Trump will probably win,” says Emily, who does not offer who she is voting for. “Most of the people I talk to are voting for him but not everybody.”

Things turn less friendly at Muddy Water. The bartender is ready to kick me out almost as soon as I walk in the tavern door.

“Do I look like somebody who supports Trump or Biden?” he asks, using his hands to gesture that I should size him up. “Doesn’t matter. We don’t talk politics in my bar. It causes too many disagreements when people are drinking.” 

There are three customers having beers in the bar but they don’t seem to notice our exchange. I probe a little further on whether the political divide in Trempealeau is more heated than it used to be. 

“I said, no politics in my bar,” the bartender fires back. “Don’t you listen?” 

On the outskirts of Centerville, a farm stand promising raspberries and “tasty asparagus” looks like a fruitful stop. I pull in and discover it’s closed. The day was off to a rough start in more ways than one. I return to my car but instead of the engine firing up when I turn the key, all I hear is some clicking, humming and finally nothing at all. Uh oh. 

It starts to drizzle alongside Highway 54 with not a voter in sight. The battery isn’t dead and I know cars have starters. This car doesn’t start. I must have a bad starter. I don’t know how to repair — or locate — my vehicle’s starter.

I call a mechanic. Soon Larry Dubois pulls up in a small tow truck to bring my car to a repair shop just across the border in Winona, Minnesota. Thankfully, he’s game to be a source and share his lay of the political landscape. 

“Before I tell you anything, I bleed red. I’m a redneck. I’m a country boy. But I’m not an extremist who gets mad at people because I’m a Republican and they are Democrat,” says Dubois, who grew up along the border of Minnesota and Wisconsin. “Both sides lie. No matter what way you look at it. I’m more independent than most of my family, who are hardcore Republicans.” 

Biden’s harsh criticism of Trump’s handling of the pandemic rubs Dubois the wrong way.

“I don't know how Biden can say Trump hurt the country by not getting COVID under control,” says Dubois. “Nobody knew what this virus was and what was going to happen. What was Trump supposed to do that he didn’t do?” 

Dubois credits Trump with ushering in economic prosperity before the coronavirus hit. 

“I drive trucks. I do a lot of work in trucking. I’m also a farmer,” says Dubois. “All the industries I work in, there was a huge turnaround under Trump. I saw a big difference after he was elected.” 

Unlike some members of his family, Dubois says he recognizes Trump “has a lot of downfalls, too.” He wishes the president had “more class” and wishes he was more like his vice president. 

“[Mike] Pence is respectful. He is not fake,” says Dubois, who was impressed to see Pence wear a pair of blue jeans and a cowboy hat while visiting a farm. “You don’t see Trump doing that.” 

Dubois thinks the election will once again be close in Wisconsin. He drives a truck to Madison and Green Bay a couple times a week and says he sees “far more” Trump signs along Wisconsin highways than he did in 2016. He doubts the recent polls showing Biden winning the state are accurate. 

“Like I said, I'm just a down home country boy. The way I see it there's a lot of rednecks coming out of the woodwork in this election,” says Dubois. “Folks who have never voted before. They are coming out for Trump.” 

James at Dahl Automotive in Winona confirms my automotive diagnosis and delivers more bad news. 

“It’s going to take a couple days for a replacement starter to come in,” he says. “We can drop you off at a car rental place.” 

Upgraded to a brand new 2020 Toyota Corolla, I’m back on track and on the right side of the Mississippi River. The hell with Trempealeau County. I head into neighboring Buffalo County to try my luck with voters there. 

Not far from the tallest bluffs along the Mississippi, I see two sisters holding up a Black Lives Matter sign in Fountain City. Since August, Aaron and Anna Camacho have been holding the sign every Friday afternoon at the intersection of Great River Road and Main Street. It’s a prime spot to get noticed even for commuters driving through Fountain City. They don’t get a lot of positive reinforcement.

“People shake their heads at us. We’ve had people scream at us, ‘You aren’t Black. What are you doing?’ People just feel they’re free to hate,” says Aaron. “That’s not something new but since Trump was elected open displays of hate are more frequent now. He’s emboldened people and they don’t have any reservations in expressing it now.”

Anna doesn’t know if Trump will win Buffalo County this year. 

“It’s hard to say. People who support our message and aren’t Trump supporters are not as vocal about it,” says Anna. “Either they just don't want to force it on people,” she adds, “or they are legitimately afraid by how intense, both vocally and physically, some of Trump’s supporters are.” 

Aaron doesn’t want to say who she is voting for — that’s not why she’s been quietly protesting for three months. 

“We all will find justice through each other's liberation. Black Lives Matter isn’t a question. It’s a statement. It’s about achieving equality for everyone — even in rural Wisconsin whether Trump wins or not,” says Aaron. “We’ve had crappy presidents before. We will survive this one. Our fight doesn’t end on Election Day.” 

The sun is setting now in Black River Falls, my final destination of the day. In the parking lot of my hotel an older gentleman yells from his parked car, “Hey kid. Got any beer?” 

I hand him one from the six-pack of Hamm's I’m carrying. Powwow music is playing over the car stereo. He tells me his name is Dwayne and he’s Winnebago, member of the Ho-Chunk Nation. He’s from the Wisconsin Dells area — another region that flipped from blue to red in 2016. 

“Who the hell are you?” he jokes. I explain I’m a journalist from Madison talking to Wisconsin voters about the upcoming election. 

“Oh. Who gives a shit about the election? It won’t make any difference,” says Dwayne. “You look like a Trump guy. Fuck Trump. Don’t lie to me.” 

Dwayne goes on to explain that he doesn’t trust white people — including me. 

“You took my land away. You did. And in a bad way. Trump took my land away. Now I’m supposed to stand here and pretend like that’s okay?” Dwayne says. “I want to take something from you. I want to punch you in the fucking face.” 

I ask him why he doesn’t. 

“It wouldn’t do nothing,” says Dwayne. “It’s not the Ho-Chunk way.” 

Dwayne has one request before he heads inside. 

“Let it be known. This is my land. Let them know. Put it in your article,” says Dwayne, before giving me a hard time again. “But you’re not a journalist. You’re a Trump guy. And you drink shitty beer.” 

Both the major parties have campaign offices in downtown Black River Falls in Jackson County. Obama won the county with 60 percent of the vote in 2008. Trump won Jackson with 53 percent eight years later. 

Nancy Clemence is staffing the Dems’ local office which is filled with signs for Biden and local candidates. She’s optimistic that Democrats will take back the county in 2020. The economy and pandemic are the top issues she hears about when talking to voters. 

“In the early months of COVID, I don’t think we took it all that serious. But now, we are seeing more and more cases because too many people are not wearing masks or social distancing,” says Clemence. “Places like Madison and Milwaukee got smart because they got hit in the face with it.”

Jackson County, with a population of around 21,000, was seeing one or two confirmed cases per day throughout the summer. Since September, the number of cases have been steadily rising. Dan Krehbiel, Nancy’s partner and a fellow volunteer, says some of his conservative golf buddies have turned their back on the GOP — at least the candidate at the top of the ticket.

“They’ve had it with Trump. Which is one of the reasons why, frankly, I think Biden was the best Democrat to nominate, because he's middle of the road,” says Krehbiel. “These are conservative people who don’t want to hear a lot of left-wing crap.”

Just around the block is the “Victory Center” for the Republican Party of Jackson County. Two volunteers sit inside on folding chairs waiting to distribute campaign signs to Trump and GOP supporters. Neither are wearing masks. 

“No, we would prefer not to talk to the media,” says the volunteer. 

COVID-19 and its effect on the economy were by far the most important issues cited by voters interviewed by Isthmus. While campaigning in West Salem on Oct. 27, Trump complained about the pandemic dominating the discussion during the final weeks before Election Day. It was the same day Wisconsin health officials reported 5,262 confirmed cases of COVID-19, 220 new hospitalizations, and 64 deaths. 

“All [the media] wants to talk about is COVID,” said Trump at the rally. “These people don’t believe in science. They believe in whatever gives them power and whatever gives them control.” 

Two billboards, one right after the other on Highway 29 in between Wausau and Eau Claire, highlight the divide on the pandemic between the Biden and Trump camps. One reads, “197,000+ COVID DEATHS. America Needs Joe Biden.” The other: “99.99% You WON’T die of COVID. Keeping America Great. Vote TRUMP.” 

As of Oct. 29, the U.S. death toll from COVID-19 is at least 227,000. The mortality rate for COVID-19 varies significantly based on age and other demographics, and it has dropped significantly since the early months of the pandemic. But the likelihood of death from the coronavirus has never been .01 percent, as the Trump billboard proclaims. 

Simone Tremblay lives in Hayward in Sawyer County, yet another county that voted twice for Obama and then Trump. Tremblay runs several businesses in the Northwoods and is a Republican. Her sense is that the area is solidly Trump country now. 

“We needed somebody with a business mind to take charge. We can’t just wait around for Congress to make decisions because by then, it's too late. I think that’s why people really like Trump. He gets things done,” says Tremblay. “He's also doing some shit that nobody else wanted to do. And the reason he's so defensive is because he’s always under attack.” 

Tremblay didn’t vote for Obama in 2008 or 2012. But she also doesn’t “think he was a train wreck.”

“It’s hard to say but I do think some people who voted for Obama weren’t happy with him and that may have turned them into Republicans,” says Tremblay. “I didn’t think Obama was great or anything. But I don’t hate him like some people do.” 

It’s the last day of the season for the information center at the Wisconsin Concrete Park in Phillips. The outdoor museum features dozens of life-size sculptures of people, animals and historical events created by self-taught artist Fred Smith, a retired lumberjack. 

Etola Foytek, a volunteer at the museum, taught high school math in the Price County city for 35 years. She’s now the president of the Price County Historical Society. She’s voting for Biden in this election but suspects Trump will once again win a majority of voters in her community. Foytek says the city of 1,500 has had regular Friday night protests by Trump supporters over Gov. Tony Evers’ COVID-19 public health orders. 

“A bunch of them have been picketing with their signs, to recall Evers and stuff. I mean c’mon. All [the governor] was trying to do is keep people safe. It shouldn’t be a Democrat or Republican issue,” says Foytek. “Just the other day I came into town and there were no parking spots left at the two restaurants. They are all bellied up to the bar, drinking and spitting in each other's face.” 

Foytek says teachers like her and people in the healthcare industry seem to be in Biden's camp. But business owners in Phillips and “gun people” are proudly voting for Trump.

“The folks that like to hunt are so worried somebody is going to take their guns away. Guns are really important to some people around here,” says Foytek, who rolls her eyes. “Nobody is going to knock on their doors and say, ‘Give me all your guns.’ It’s ridiculous. I have a gun to shoot red squirrels. I’m not worried.” 

The septuagenarian is dismayed about what happens after the election — regardless of the candidate who ends up winning Wisconsin.

“At some point, you do have to work together. When Obama was in office it was rough because Republicans were against everything he tried to do,” says Foytek. “Well how do you get anything done? At some point the country needs to come together and solve problems.” 

At one point there was a rash of thefts of political signs in her small community. It was “out of control,” she says. Her Biden sign was run over this summer in the middle of the afternoon.

“So I called the cops and they told me this is happening all over with both Biden and Trump signs and there isn’t much they can do,” says Foytek. “I called back the next day and put up a stink because it’s not right. It’s against the law.” 

The sign war in Price County reached a détente after a joint editorial penned by local Democratic and Republican officials urged supporters to respect the First Amendment. Foytek says she has dear friends who are voting for Trump. 

“They come over and see my Biden sign and they don’t say anything. We’re still friends,” says Foytek. “They have their opinion and I have mine. I do think the houses with no signs in their yards are mostly for Biden.” 

Judging from what I saw on my 1,000-mile-trip across the state, Trump supporters do seem more enthusiastic about putting up campaign signs on Wisconsin highways. Generally, there are more Trump signs on display, usually several on one property, and a greater variety of designs and messages. Many had themes of Trump’s support for “law and order.” 

In the city of Merrill, there was even a Trump Store — not too far from the Republican Party of Lincoln County office, which was giving out yard signs. Unfortunately the Trump Store was closed but a peek through the window revealed dozens of Trump-centric items. Several flags were featured, including one of an AR-15 with the words, “Come and Take it.” Another flag reimagined the acronym LGBT, positioning the Statue of Liberty above the “L,” a gun above “G,” a beer above “B,” and a silhouette of Trump above the “T.” 

There was also a sign picturing a cartoon of a child wearing a MAGA hat while urinating on the word Pelosi. And, for those who have the room, a full-size cardboard cutout of First Lady Melania Trump was for sale. 

It's now Tuesday morning — five days since I left Madison and time to circle back to Winona to pick up my car. It's decidedly GOP territory for a stretch. JoAnne, who didn’t want to give her last name, isn’t surprised by the enthusiasm of Trump supporters. I catch up with her at a coffee shop in downtown Medford, where she is sitting with close friends and her son — the only people in her COVID “bubble” she says. 

“On my drive in today, my head was spinning at how many Trump signs I saw,” says JoAnne, who is voting for Biden and lives on the outskirts of Medford. 

Medford is in Taylor County and the only county I visited that has voted for the Republican presidential candidate in 2008, 2012 and 2016. In each successive election, it has moved further to the right. U.S. Sen. John McCain won by just 23 votes. Romney won by 1,838. And Trump won by 4,186 — nearly 70 percent of the total vote in Taylor County. 

“My friends who support Trump say things like, ‘Look how much money he’s made, he’s going to make us rich, too,’” says JoAnne. “How can you even respond to that? They honestly think Trump is somehow looking out for them.” 

JoAnne is sympathetic and understands the appeal of Trump to many of her neighbors. 

“They have worked hard their entire lives. A lot of them are good people,” says JoAnne. “I just think they have been duped into thinking Trump will finally give them a break. Make things a little easier. But I don’t think they are looking at the big picture.” 

JoAnne tells me her friend, a man who looks to be well into retirement, is also voting for Biden. But he doesn't take the bait, warning: “Don’t you dare ask me about politics.”