St. Paul, Minn. — 8:35 a.m. On a footbridge between a heavy gray sky and the St. Cloud traffic below. It can't be more than 30 degrees out, and it's windy up here. Three bundled figures press up against the chain-link fence and wave their arms over posterboard signs for the Independence Party.
They call out in celebration with each passing honk.
The St. Cloud State College Independents have made this bridge a part of their routine in the final week. Senior Matt Zabka is their leader.
"Lawn signs kind of build name recognition, but it really doesn't show that people support him unless you're out here," Zabka says, "in the freezing cold."
Local party officials say students are a major part of their volunteer force. Membership in the College Independents hovers at about eight people, and Zabka says they've cut out eating and sleeping during the final week.
"We're going to be doing about four hours of work every day," he says. "Two hours of this and two hours of dropping off literature, plus we're going to have a table set up, so I kind of have to alternate the troops."
10:48 a.m. In the warmth of a St. Cloud copy shop. College French instructor Maureen McCarter has an endorsement letter for a local DFL candidate, signed by the powers-that-be in the school district. Nine-hundred copies take a long time.
"Today I have to first of all get these copies made in sets of 20 and then get it to the Education Association," McCarter says, "who will get it into the teachers mailboxes."
McCarter has long been a strong DFL supporter. Her black t-shirt urges you to "Testify..." and she sports the green button worn by many DFLers these days. But she's decided to turn her life over to campaign work because of a friend who's running for the state senate.
"Once this letter is delivered, then I need to stop by the St. Cloud Times to drop off some ads, and then after that I would like to take a little rest, that's what I would love to do," she says. "But I will be making phone calls."
6:13 p.m. Back out in the cold, moving from porch light to porch light in a south St. Cloud neighborhood. English Professor Judy Dorn is out for the first time, knocking on her neighbors' doors for the Green Party.
"Since the last time I was doing this I was selling high school band candles, I'll have to remember I'm not 14," she says, "and I'm not asking them for money."
She's out with volunteer Milward Simpson, who's also the director of the local arts district. Simpson has been doing this for years, and says most folks, when you come to the door, are "Minnesota nice." One family this night actually asks them in.
"I think it can be intimidating work, but I think it's mostly a matter of getting over the stage fright," he says. "I think most people realize that it's an important part of the process."
7:02 p.m. In one corner of a telemarketing company on the outskirts of town. The local College Republicans take up two donated rows of cubicles, and computer screens flash names from a database of area voters.
This is sophomore Betsy Byma's first campaign. She reads from a script in support of the candidate they're handling tonight: "...a different kind of leader...he keeps his promises and gets things done...he'll create jobs, cut taxes, and really reform education. Can we count on your vote?"
Byma comes from a Republican family. "I just always enjoyed watching everything form the side, and I thought I'd just get involved and help out and volunteer," she says. "Because the candidates don't get elected themselves. They need lots of volunteers helping them out."
She's not especially troubled by the question every campaign volunteer must ask from time to time.
"It's gonna make a difference," Byma says. "This election is really tight, and it could come down to maybe one or two votes, you never know."
No, you never know. Volunteering is an exercise in faith. And right now payoff and heartbreak are only a day away.
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