GALESBURG, Illinois – (AP) – Pickups and cars rumble north over the railroad tracks on East Main Street to Galesburg, Illinois, past the red-brick Lindstrom home appliance house that has been on the same corner for more than 100 years.
A building from more affluent days, the Orpheum Theater near the converted Amtrak train station anchors one end of a downtown area lined with banks, antique stores, restaurants, and empty storefronts. At the other end is the bronze likeness of Galesburg’s most famous native, the poet Carl Sandburg. A plaque commemorates the place where Abraham Lincoln and Stephen Douglas drew thousands to their Senate election debate in 1858.
In this city in the heart of the Midwest, the fighting in Washington seems distant. On cable television, Democrats and Republicans argue over things like getting rid of the Senate filibuster, setting up a commission to investigate the January 6 attack on the Capitol, or whether the Democrats should use a complicated budget process to get President Joe Biden’s agenda break through.
But in interviews with nearly 30 people over three days in Galesburg, the conversations are dominated by topics much closer to home, such as increasing local crime, racial conflicts and whether life can be returned to normal after a deadly pandemic.
And their votes matter because it’s places like Galesburg, among a few dozen rotating congressional districts in the country that will have an oversized vote in next year’s midterm elections, with control of Congress and the fate of President Joe Biden’s agenda are at stake. In 2020, voters here favored President Donald Trump, but also their incumbent Democratic Congressman Cheri Bustos.
“If Trump could win and the Democrats win, look at the top spots of the competition,” said David Winston, a Republican pollster. “Wherever you see independents play an overwhelming role, these are the districts to follow.
Both parties will try to convince a restless, anxious electorate.
Outside a popular café, Margaret Tolley lamented the precipitous shootings, not in Chicago, 200 miles away, but just a few blocks away in her hometown.
“There has been so many shootings in Galesburg this year,” said Tolley, a 70-year-old retired 4th grade teacher and lifelong resident. “I mean, where does that come from? It makes me crazy. I hate that. I mean, this is Galesburg! “
Galesburg, a city of just under 30,000 in western Illinois, is beginning to rise from the fog of the COVID-19 pandemic and grapple with the long-simmering conflicts from the Trump-era.
“People are trying to figure out how to interact with each other,” said Kim Thierry, a 59-year-old retired government employee. “Can we be friends?”
Galesburg is halfway between Rock Island on the Mississippi and Peoria 100 miles (160 km) southeast and is represented by Bustos, a moderate Democrat who does not want to be re-elected. The district is one of only seven in the country to have elected Trump president and a Democrat to Congress.
Galesburg, once a Democratic bastion powered by organized labor, has become more republican as union jobs have dwindled.
An outbreak of crime has stirred emotions here, and Democrats are wary of Republican allegations that their policies are to blame.
In early February, Knox County State’s Democrat Jeremy Karlin, elected in November, juggled three deadly shootings.
“It’s meth here,” said Karlin, 52. “Meth affects half the cases I have. And it’s not the meth you make at home. It’s the meth that crosses the border in 90 to 100% pure form. “
Even a 42-year-old councilor was on trial after police said she found methamphetamine in a pack of cigarettes in her car during a traffic stop, according to The Register Mail in Galesburg.
Methamphetamine is a newer and more deadly problem here, and people prefer to remember the city’s more upbeat beginnings.
Galesburg was built around Knox College more than 180 years ago, which was founded by Presbyterians seeking a Christian school on the western border. The city soon became home to Illinois’ first anti-slavery society.
Today, around 1,100 are enrolled at the Liberal Arts College near the city center with its Tudor Gothic campus shaded by towering elms. Notable alumni include newspaper chain pioneer Ellen Browning Scripps and John Podesta, a top advisor to Presidents Bill Clinton and Barack Obama.
The largest local employer is BNSF Railway with 1,300 employees for the largest freight carrier in the country. But it’s a lonely holdover from Galesburg’s once defining working-class past.
A Maytag factory closed 16 years ago as part of a wave of thousands who have lost unionized jobs over the past 40 years.
While Biden speaks of a massive infrastructure plan as a potential boon to organized labor, some union officials here say he cannot cure Galesburg’s diseases. Some prefer the more humble bipartisan package at play in Washington.
The draft compromise could “get people to work and get people to move into this community,” said Jeremy Schultz, 44, a union organizer for electrical workers. “I would like to see all of this, but I don’t think that’s realistic.”
Schultz said Trump had fueled economic fears and raised cultural issues like gun rights. “A lot of them fill their heads with pretty weird things,” said Schultz of Trump supporters.
Not all economic signs are bleak. Thai and Korean restaurants have moved to old pharmacies and groschen shops in the city center. A midweek music and food fair at lunchtime and personal orientation at Knox College drew families to nearby spas and breweries, spreading a post-pandemic renewal over the downtown area.
Still, the restaurants that have helped survive downtown are struggling to add staff and maintain opening hours. Brad Clark, president of Tompkins State Bank, said he has also had difficulty filling cashier positions, a common issue among local businesses.
Like other, more conservative voters in Galesburg, Clark blames the federal extended unemployment benefits for encouraging workers to remain inactive and fears that they will drive inflation higher.
“Employers have to pay more to get people back to work,” said Clark, 59. “So what’s this going to do with inflation and the whole economy?”
Although the pandemic killed more than 150 people here, the vaccination rate of 42% in June was well below the Illinois state average of 53%. Overall, concerns about the coronavirus seem to be easing.
But not the hangover from the 2020 election. Debra Florio, 70, a retired nurse, believes Trump’s false claims that he actually won. On the other hand, John Bento, 54, an electrical engineer, is still angry about the January 6th Uprising in the U.S. Capitol.
The discrepancy in their views is likely to form the lines of the upcoming congressional elections. Cultural fault lines across races are also readily apparent.
Last summer, Mayor John Pritchard fought a resolution proposed by the NAACP to recognize “institutionalized racism” in the areas of police, attitudes and public health. Pritchard, 66 and white, rejected the idea that racism is at the core of today’s disparities.
Brittany Grimes, president of the local NAACP, challenged him with a report that found that most of Galesburg’s 14 percent black population – thousands of citizens – lived in poverty.
The confrontation revealed a long simmering tension that became much more personal.
Mark Kleine, a business owner and philanthropist, made the NAACP’s request attributed to pressure from national forces to “dig up things about systemic racism.”
“All these people think that a city like ours has to get on the train,” says Kleine, 63. “We really don’t have that because we don’t have these problems.”
Tiana Cervantez, 44, a member of the school board wiped a tear from her eye as she remembered the angry opposition to the resolution by “People I’ve Known All My Life”.
Pritchard was defeated for a third term in April by a 53-year-old professor at Knox College, Peter Schwartzman, who supported the resolution.
In the race for Busto’s seat, the battle had not yet begun.
Copyright 2021 The Associated Press. All rights reserved. This material may not be published, broadcast, rewritten, or redistributed in any way without permission.