Immersed in the Friday afternoon sunlight is Jim Dlauter, distinguishable in his characteristic Pink Floyd attire and sunglasses, seated at his favourite location in downtown Gettysburg, an activity he enjoys as he observes life around him.
As a beacon in Pennsylvania, Gettysburg attracts nearly two million tourists annually who come to visit the exact location where Lincoln gave his famous address. The town centre resembles a movie set, and the conserved battlefield has an otherworldly essence due to the overwhelming and silent heat. The tourism rush has ended for this year, giving the residents some respite; although, this doesn’t seem to bother Dlauter. He discusses the unusual experience of dwelling in a place that’s part small-town, part magnet for American mythology.
Undeterred by either, Dlauter states in his rare southern accent, “Living here is just part of life. I get to interact with a wide range of individuals. Just the other night, I had a pleasant conversation with a couple from Denmark, which was quite enjoyable.
“Our winters have changed over time. The heavy snowfalls we used to witness during my childhood in Hanover are no more. During my youth, we used to drive up here for family outings and picnics on the battleground. However, to truly grasp the essence of this spot, one should participate in one of the guided tours. The history is extensive and complicated. Many veterans lost their lives here, making it hallowed ground. Irrespective of whether they were from the North or the South, they were all brothers. Abraham Lincoln stated that every man who lost his life in this war should be considered a veteran. Perhaps my keen interest in this emanates from my upbringing.”
Afterwards, our discourse shifts towards the ongoing presidential elections and the increasing chatter about a potential civil war or social collapse. I inform him about my impending visit to the city of Wilkes-Barre, where Kamala Harris is scheduled to conduct a rally that evening.
Dlauter dismisses Harris, describing her as a whimsical character who is inconsistent in her ideas. He recalls her indecisiveness in the debate, pointing out her waffling stance on matters like fracking. He laments the vulnerability of their nation and its urgent need for a strong leader who can hold their own. When prompted, he proudly states his belief that Trump best fits that description, as he won’t be tolerating any nonsense and will face challenges straightforwardly.
Dlauter’s opinions resonate with a significant number of people in Pennsylvania, a state under intense scrutiny as the elections near. Sometimes mockingly referred to as “Penn-tucky” due to its stark urban-rural disparity, its political leaning has shifted from George W Bush to Barack Obama to Donald Trump to Joe Biden in recent years. Harris’s unexpected move of not selecting the state’s Democratic governor, Josh Shapiro, for her campaign added to the state’s unpredictability.
Despite facing unique issues like poor water quality in cities and larger towns due to aging lead pipes, and economic decline in the Rust Belt towns, the Pennsylvanians’ attention is focused more on broader national election matters. These include the economy, women’s reproductive rights, and the issue of the US-Mexico border.
The ethnic composition of Adams County has mostly stayed the same for the last ten years, predominantly being the descendants of Germans, Irish, English and Italian immigrants, accounting for 89 per cent of the resident’s ethnicity according to the US Census Bureau. The average household income – £54,000 (€68,000) – is above the state’s average, and 60 per cent of the houses are priced between £150,000 and £375,000. Merely 1.4 per cent of the houses in the county are estimated to be worth £1 million or above.
Looking down the peaceful street, all but the echo of aging bikers once returning from the historic Gettysburg battlefield site, the area feels a world away from the southern border. However, Dlauter thinks immigration-related issues have left an imprint on the area.
“Yes, I’ve noticed some effects here, although it’s not overwhelming. This feels like a safeguarded area where mischief won’t be tolerated. However, looking at the past four years, I reckon we’ll be lucky if we manage to recover in the upcoming 20 years. The immigrants are given benefits that even I didn’t have during my growing-up years. Although I’m retired and receive social security benefits, there are children here who can’t afford a meal. It’s baffling to think of a child being unable to afford lunch. In Japan, every child receives and consumes the same lunch, ensuring no child goes hungry. There’s nothing wrong with that, in my opinion.”
The discussion then turns to the younger generation, who, to Dlauter, are a cause for concern.
“I’m bewildered by their thought process,” he expresses, pointing at my phone. “They’re engrossed in these,”
“They lack basic communication skills, unlike our conversation now. Hand them an analogue clock, and they’ll be at a loss. It’s utterly bizarre!”
As I bid him goodbye, Dlauter insists that I pay a visit to the “sweet shop” nearby. As he bids me farewell, he eagerly greets a familiar face.
I take a swift car trip to the Gettysburg battlefield, a location where the key events from the three days of fighting are commemorated with grand statues and columns. This entire location is now accessible via a cunning system of one-way roads, enabling both civil war enthusiasts and the simply interested to explore the battlefield without giving up the comfortable temperature or tunes in their vehicle. However, one also has the option of strolling through the the fields where the battles took place.
The site is odd, a scene of horrific human brutality that now emanates a deep tranquility. Upon my visit to Seminary Ridge, I am left undisturbed by the absence of other tourists. This is the location of the notorious Pickett’s Charge, an event that prompted William Faulkner’s renowned quote, which has faced considerable reinterpretation.
“A 14-year-old boy from the South, not just once but as many times as he wishes, can relive the moment that is not yet 2pm on a July afternoon in 1863. The brigades are in position behind the rail fence, the guns are set and prepared in the forest,and the rolled up flags are primed to be unfurled. Pickett himself, with his well-oiled curls and a hat in one hand, possibly, and his sword in the other, looking up at the hill waiting for Longstreet to give the command. Everything is in the balance, it hasn’t happened yet, it hasn’t even started yet.”
This pleading tone showcases the “myth of the Lost Cause” from the viewpoint of the then dominant white class as opposed to the enslaved majority in the south. It serves as a reminder that the topics of race and racism continue to power much of today’s national discourse, including the November election.
The journey to Wilkes-Barre, a town of 50,000 nestled in staunchly Republican Luzerne County, is a gradual two-hour trip through the interstate’s congested web, whose time-worn surface is undergoing refurbishment, thanks to the Biden Infrastructure Bill, a fact frequently advertised. The presence of Victorian-era mansions and thoroughly systematically escorted avenues near Wilkes University echo the prosperity of the late 19th century, the result of the coal-mining boom in the Wyoming valley.
The arrival of the vice-president creates quite a stir on a Friday afternoon as the city streets are sealed off and university’s performance centre, where Harris is scheduled to give her talk, is completely packed. Harris’ high-energy political gatherings are known for their brevity and uplifting messages. Despite the familiarity of the content for many Americans who have accessed these political speeches, the electrifying energy of experiencing it live makes it an exceptional encounter.
Harris addressed the crowd saying, “Despite attempts to isolate us and create divisions within our nation during this period, it is moments like these that reiterate our unity and common objectives.” Her words temporarily lose to the enthusiastic applause of the spectators. Once the enthusiasm ebbs away, she smoothly transitions into her standard rally address, wrapping it up within half an hour.
Molly Baron, a local resident who saw the rally at the university grounds on a large screen, shares, “We are elated that she is here. This place is known to strongly support Biden. We deeply admire President Biden, and that admiration extends to Kamala Harris. Once we received Biden’s endorsement, we could comfortably extend our support.”
Baron resides in the neutral territory between Luzerne and Lackawanna County, where Scranton – the city that Biden constantly reminisced about as his childhood home – is situated. She describes her unique experience saying, “The area where I reside is sandwiched between Scranton and Wilkes-Barre, and it’s quite intriguing. Residents of each city largely stick to their own, it’s like living in two distinct worlds. Though I have frequented both places my entire life, support for political figures doesn’t always spill over from one city to another. Just because Scranton supports someone doesn’t mean Wilkes-Barre will follow suit, and vice versa.”
The industrial town of Wilkes-Barre, which had a population of 86,000 during the 1930s, is now eagerly anticipating a resurgence of its glory days. A recent event attended by Harris was a nostalgic glimpse of times when the city centre was bustling. The efficiency of the secret service was notably evident as they whisked Harris away while the audience was yet to depart.
Natalia Rivera, who made a journey from Mount Pocono with her mother to hear Harris speak, described the event as heart-warming. The room was charged with anticipation for change. Rivera, a new mother herself, felt especially moved.
Post-event, Natalia’s mother Monica was deeply reflective, ruminating on the future for her offspring and grandchildren. She emphasised the need for national unity, and cringed at the escalating violence that sends a negative signal internationally. Drawing an analogy from her childhood, Monica highlighted the principle of mutual care and respect amongst siblings and its relevance to societal strength. She voiced her concerns about the nation’s infighting and questioned the country’s position to preach civility to other nations when unrest prevails domestically.
Monica pinpointed the deep-seated uncertainties lurking beneath the coverage of electoral college votes and possible routes to victory for both Trump and Harris. The significance of Pennsylvania to both parties’ strategies is immense. If Harris is able to secure the state as a Democratic stronghold, she faces the massive task of placating a restless electorate, addressing potential dispute over results, and dealing with the imminent risk of violence.
When queried about Harris’s capability to handle these challenges, Monica displayed absolute confidence. She attributed this to Harris’s impressive coherence. Monica went on to acknowledge the intelligence of all American citizens, regardless of political affiliation, expressing that they should act in accordance with their intellect.
Resting on a local bench, Kevin and Alicia are poised to journey home, waiting for the traffic to slow down. They both hail from Wilkes-Barre and, being public servants, choose to withhold their last names. They have been spectators and contributors too as they witness people’s lives go through drastic changes amid the pandemic and the burgeoning fentanyl issue that has intensified the local homelessness crisis.
Kevin observes the severe impact of unexpected homelessness over the past year on the community, resulting from escalating fentanyl and heroin addiction. Alongside, Wilkes-Barre has been drawn into the national swirl of rocketing home prices and rent.
Alicia remarks, “Presently, to feel secure, one needs to shell out considerably.” She notes the city is the home of archaic housing stock- fire traps and dangerous conditions in unsafe districts. “The housing situation is dire,” she concurs.
They are hopeful that a presidency under Harris could catalyse some healing across the nation. Disillusioned with Donald Trump, they long for a change despite having friends and family who are die-hard loyalists. They engage in conversations about Ireland and Europe. Alicia comments on the ignorance of locals about global petrol prices suggesting they’d be aghast if familiar with rates in Europe.
By eight in the evening, the Wilkes-Barre streets are deserted. The Harris rally barriers have been piled up on the verge for a Saturday pick-up, leaving the city centre eerily quiet.
On Saturday, my traverse to Clairton in Pennsylvania is via unhurried routes, which remind me less of the autobahn or the N4. It is as good as invisible. Despite Pennsylvania’s 13 million strong population, during my four-hour drive across the state, I see only five individuals out and about, three of whom are manicuring their lawns. It’s strange considering the superb weather, 28 degrees with clear skies. As I cross through towns with interesting names like Shamokin, Berrysburg and Gratz, there’s a conspicuous lack of outdoor activity. Evidently, spending time on the stoop is no longer a common practice, as there’s more to enjoy indoors, especially with the football season in full swing.
The verdant landscape of the countryside, with its narrow roads weaving through rolling hills and fields blooming vibrantly, bear the appearance of a canvas painted by Claude Monet, meticulously maintained by the Wimbledon Lawn Tennis Club grounds team. It mirrors a dream, until the scenery morphs.
Located just 18 kilometres south of Pittsburgh, you’ll find the town of Clairton, a time capsule of a bygone age. Clairton gained unusual recognition as the chosen backdrop for Michael Cimino’s controversial 1978 war movie, The Deer Hunter, a film that noted critic Pauline Kael described as a “film of narrow perspective yet abundant greatness” upon its Christmas release. The film’s production is almost as famous as the film itself, and despite Cimino initially setting his sights on Clairton, he later had to settle for other towns within the Monongahela Valley, less notable than Clairton, to stand in for filming.
The core of Clairton was built around the largest coke production facility in America. However, by the late 70s, the town was on a downward spiral, and nothing has been implemented to halt this descent by 2024. The coke plant, with only a skeletal workforce, continues to bellow smoke, while Clairton itself collapses into decay with every desolate street filled with shuttered businesses and abandoned homes.
Torrents of videos made by fans of desolate towns are now available on YouTube, showcasing the decline of Clairton. Amongst the abandoned structures, Grisnik Bakery, with its frontage of blush tiles, jumps out. “Established in 1910” is proudly stated on its signage, hinting at a prosperous past. An obituary from a local paper, written in 2007, honours the late George Grisnik – the third-generation baker whose grandfather had started the bakery after moving from Croatia.
Recalled fondly by his wife, Dorothy Grisnik, George loved baking Paska bread and nut and poppyseed rolls, specially for the Christmas season. Dorothy reminisces about their shared membership in the Croatian singing group, Jelica Singing Society, before they tied the knot in 1954. She fondly remembers their performances in traditional Croatian outfits at various Croatian centres across Western Pennsylvania.
Certainly, as the offspring began to arrive, the hours George spent at the bakery increased, and my time was occupied at home. Our singing schedules started to dwindle. But this didn’t halt George from breaking into song even as he was baking or serving his patrons.
There is no longer any singing found amongst the baking now. The downfall of Clairton can be attributed primarily to the emergence of electric-arc mini-mills which significantly reduced the demand for coke produced by the town’s major plant for steel generation, thus depreciating its value. Today, the town carries a legacy of severe air pollution and a high cancer rate, ranking amongst the worst in the country. The reported population stands at 6,181, with a median household income of $41,000, and a 46 per cent employment rate.
Undeniably, Clairton is a town that has suffered immense neglect from both Republican and Democratic administrations for many years. Remodelling the town’s future appears to be a challenging proposition. Neither Trump nor Harris has paid a visit.
Approximately an hour’s journey to the west of Clairton is Johnstown, another river town in western Pennsylvania, still grappling with the impact of the decline of its mill industries. Popular culture has retold Johnstown’s story frequently. It is mentioned in Bruce Springsteen’s heartfelt song, ‘The River’, and was used as the filming location for ‘All the Right Moves,’ featuring a young Tom Cruise in the role of a troubled football star yearning for escape: “You can’t even get employment in that damn mill now”, his character moans at one point.
Reaching Johnstown, nestled next to the Conemaugh river, involves not just a journey, but a stunning descend via a twisting road, offering fleeting views of church domes and roofs of solid, humble constructions. It is undoubtedly a sight to behold. During the Sunday lunchtime in the city square, a community festival is held, buzzing with a live jazz band and stalls offering local crafts and regional cuisine.
There are a monstrous number of things I passionately disagree with. Currently, we find ourselves being the underdog and everyone seems to be ganging up on us – Jim Dlauter
Recently, the limelight has been on Cambria County, Johnstown, where political figures Trump and Harris have visited in the past month. The county, which narrowly voted for Obama in 2008, has since gravitated towards strong Republican support.
Brian Lingenfelter, a native of Johnstown, traces the town’s decline back to his school days in the 1980s. He nostalgically recalls a time when the town’s steel mills were flourishing. Today, only one remains, with the rest having shut their doors. The economic downturn they have faced can be attributed to cheaper steel imports, creating a challenging job market for locals.
When asked about his memories of the film ‘All the Right Moves’ shot in his town, Lingenfelter chuckles. Although missed his chance to act as an extra because he was attending “Hornerstown high school”, some of his friends featured in the film.
Unaware of the on-going park party, Lingenfelter intended to spend his Sunday cycling to his pals’ for the Steelers’ season opener. But before he set off, he shares an insight into the struggles that the people of Johnstown face.
He expresses the locals’ growing frustration with high living expenses, and isn’t particularly fond of either communism or socialism, as he feels those at the bottom reap no rewards. For him, even if it seems counterintuitive, it’s best for Trump to re-occupy the presidency, if only to quell the ongoing political chaos. Lingenfelter mourns the decay of Johnstown’s main street, where thriving businesses once stood, but now lie bare with empty storefronts.
Johnstown, which almost faced annihilation twice, most notably in the 1889 flood that claimed 2,200 lives due to a dam rupture, a topic now at the heart of a local museum exhibit, surprisingly hosts a selection of appealing artisan shops and cafes. Despite its turbulent history, the town exudes inherent toughness and determination. A manifestation of this is the football stadium’s revitalisation, which cost $8 million.
Relaxing on a park bench and soaking in the Sunday sunshine, Lingenfelter contemplates the path to Johnstown’s restoration. He reflects on the more prosperous times experienced during the Reagan and Bush presidencies when the town was thriving. His belief in an inevitable resurgence is palpable, yet he asserts the crucial role leadership has to play in that journey. In an uplifting end to his musings, he moves on to watch the Steelers’ game.