Andrew Yang’s Campaign represented the best of the grass roots

When I took a day off of my bartending job in the summer of 2018 to head into Midtown Manhattan for a follow-up interview for an internship with a gimmick-y presidential campaign, I had two expectations:

1. The interview would in fact be an interview.

2. The campaign would never get to the point of being a positive on my resume, much less a contender for the democratic nominee.

Upon walking into Yang2020 headquarters, I had no clue I’d be proven wrong on both counts.

The office felt appropriately sparse — and, as I returned over the next 14 months, I watched the growing clutter, desks, and consequential buzz scale accordingly with the campaign itself. The maturation of Candidate Yang from New York Times-stamped “longer-than-long-shot” (a ridicule that would later be memorialized on the office wall in poster form), to credible establishment threat was most saliently depicted by the transformation of the HQ’s autograph wall. The signatures from visitors looked a bit sad when I added my own, as the whiteness of the wall dominated the bright colors of the sharpied names. But, one year later, newcomers to the office would be forced to jockey for position on the wall, searching for white space with futility.

Still, that August, I couldn’t decide if the space was that of a scrappy tech startup, or home to an ill-fated organization seeking to purchase legitimacy in the form of midtown office space. Whatever it was, I was down for it.

After sitting in a seat toward the entryway of the office, leafing through Andrew Yang’s two books (Smart People Should Build Things and the newly minted War on Normal People), I began what I believed to be my follow-up interview. Though I don’t remember what was said, it was obvious from the outset that I wasn’t going to be doing much talking. Instead, I got a full primer on what life is like on the smallest and most inexperienced Presidential Campaign this side of Vermin Supreme. A picture was painted of a fledgling startup with massive aspirations buffered by a knowing wink, as if to say: “I know it’s crazy, but why not?”

After the quick interview, it was time to meet the candidate. In the open floor plan of the campaign headquarters it was not much of a reveal. I’d been intimately aware of the well-dressed man with the Yang pin on his lapel tapping on his phone directly behind me the whole time. People often talk about the sixth sense that someone is lurking behind you. I’d like to submit that this sense is amplified by about 500 times when that person is a Presidential Candidate.

I shook Yang’s hand, as well as that of Campaign Manager Zach Graumann (who was hurriedly packing a suitcase full of Yang merch and books). Graummann handed one to Yang, who promptly signed it to me: “Will, thanks for your hard work. Let’s make Universal Basic Income a reality.” Two things jumped out at me — one being the fluidity with which Yang took Graumman’s wordless book hand-off and inscribed it, implying they’d become quite accustomed to that little maneuver. Surprising, as I couldn’t imagine too many non-staffers were filing in and out of the office in those days. Secondly, “What hard work?” I thought to myself. Sure, taking the Long Island Rail Road on my commute in is no breeze, but I hadn’t exactly broken my back for the cause.

Graumann looked over the top of a stack of Yang-signed copies of The War on Normal People and asked me: “So, what are your plans for tonight?”

I was taken aback by the casual question, as I was still in “I’m meeting a quasi-celebrity mode”.

“Umm,” I stuttered. “I’m meeting my sister for dinner.”

“Oh, that’s too bad. We’re headed to Connecticut for a fundraiser, you should come along.”

_____________________________________

Andrew Yang, Zach Graumman and I took off on the streets of New York. All the while, Yang was hitting me with what would now be known as his greatest hits, but, at the time felt like fresh off-the-cuff analyses of our time and the impact UBI could have on our country.

“Really what we need to do is get the economic boot off the backs of Americans. We need to go from a mindset of scarcity to a mindset of abundance,” Yang said to me conversationally. I stammered some response about agreeing 100 percent.

The only barrier, Yang said at the time, is getting enough people to hear this message. I remember emphatically suggesting he go on the Joe Rogan Experience, expecting him to deign me a media strategy genius. Instead, he laughed. “Yeah, we’re working on it.” Five months later, Yang’s interview with Joe Rogan would become the most vital inflection point of the campaign, catapulting him from obscurity to mainstream curiosity, and catalyzing his subsequent staying power.

We arrived at the parking garage, met up with Esquire Journalist Wesley Yang who was one of the earliest (and only) reporters covering the campaign, and filed into Yang’s personal car.

I texted my sister: “I’m in Andrew Yang’s car, he’s driving me to a fundraiser in Connecticut.”

She responded: “Who is Andrew Yang??? and are you seriously bailing on me for dinner?!”

_____________________________________

The car ride to Connecticut was an extraordinary experience for me, a 19-year-old kid, and likely slightly annoying for the other three over-worked professionals, who were stuck in a car with a 19-year-old kid who was no longer star-struck and had now moved on to question-mode.

I’ve tried explaining the feeling of listening to Yang and Graumman discuss their hopes and expectations for the campaign to friends and family, but I haven’t yet been able to nail down the surreal banality of it. We all think that these candidates know things that we don’t. That they are pulling invisible levers behind the scenes. Unfortunately, for some campaigns that is true. But to hear this discussion about jokes to say on the debate stage, policies never before seen in politics before, and possible nicknames President Trump would call Yang in the General Election… it felt exactly as it would if you decided out of the blue to run for president with a friend as your campaign manager. Just shooting the shit about boundless possibilities — the type of conversation you can only have if you have zero expectations but an endless ceiling.

Halfway to our destination we stopped at a rest stop for dinner. Yang handed me a $20 to buy chipotle. I wracked my brain for the correct etiquette. “Am I supposed to accept this? Isn’t he super rich? Do I get guac?”

I got guac.

We watched CNN on the tv in the rest stop cafeteria. They were covering the latest development in the #MeToo scandal. Yang remarked thoughtfully at the corrupting nature of power.

At the fundraiser in a supporter’s home in a fancy neighborhood in Connecticut, (Yang laughed about how one of the attendees was a past fling from highschool: “If she’s supporting me for President we are in great shape”) there were maybe 20 people gathered to eat hors d’oeuvres and hear this eccentric tech guy talk about something called the Freedom Dividend. Two of the attendees were seniors in college who had never heard of UBI and seemed much more focused on leveraging this into a recommendation for Venture For America.

I fielded a ton of questions from fascinated attendees, all of whom laughed awkwardly when I explained that today was my first day with the campaign. Having heard the stump speech on my way there, I was surprisingly prepared to respond to their qualms about UBI, the possible effects on rent and inflation, and Yang’s personal history.

By the end of the evening, which consisted of a formal speech (as formal as it could be in a living room), and plenty of milling about and small talk, I’d be surprised if there were more than a couple doubters left in the house. I’d like to attribute that to my stellar performance, but I have a feeling that it had more to do with Yang’s authentic delivery, and his genuine interest in speaking passionately about UBI and automation, even to a group this small.

This was democracy in action. Twenty more people were in support of creating a mindset of abundance than before, thanks to hearing this long-shot speak. At that moment I was convinced by the power of grassroots campaigning. Intellectually I still didn’t believe this total unknown, who was a completely unpolished (Read: bad) public speaker at the time, would make it far enough to advance the conversation of UBI onto the national stage. But I was now tuned in to the idea that inspiration, optimism and creativity still had a place in our system.

The static partisan policies forced down our throats for decades had culminated in a country electing a president who thinks outside the box (to the extent that he thinks at all). The American people were hungry for an outsider in 2016 — they got one — and in 2020 that energy remains, but it’s evolved a better bullshit detector. That’s where Yang comes in.

Yang’s meteoric rise has given me unbridled hope in the future of democracy. He’s created the model that proves policy matters. Does he pass the “would I want to have a beer with him” test? Sure. But he also passes the “would I want to hear him talk about structural inequality for thirteen hours?” test. I think the latter is why he’s made it this far.