midlifedude

Man at midlife making second half matter

Archive for the tag “politics”

Intersection of Beginning and Ending

For the second straight day, I couldn’t get my mother on the phone and got no reply to my messages. The last time I called from work and left a message, I got a sick feeling. I knew something was wrong.

I called my wife Amy and told her to meet me at my mother’s apartment building, where we had struggled to move her a year earlier during a period of my mother’s physical health decline and struggle with a mental health disorder. At midlife, roles had reversed and we had become my mother’s caretakers and support system.

When we got no response to our knock on the door, dread came over me. We entered and found her dead on the bathroom floor, cause of death unknown. Though she had been experiencing health problems, they were more the nagging kind than life-threatening—until they were even more than that, suddenly.

It was a tragic start to a political campaign. Only five days earlier, I had registered in dontknockfront-cover_6283732Maryland’s capital of Annapolis as a Democratic candidate for state delegate. I had never told my mother I was considering running—our relationship had been strained during her time of unpredictable and volatile mental health, exacerbated by her stubborn nature and rebellious streak. I didn’t want to mention a political run until I was fully committed to entering the race and felt she was on firmer ground. I had planned to let her know I was in the race the next time I saw her. I never got that opportunity. I felt terrible I had never shared the news.

The profile story on my candidacy in the Baltimore Sun with an October 8, 2013 dateline coincidentally hit the newsstands the same day that Amy and I found my mother dead. That day, I was going to proudly present the article to my mother, my biggest supporter, as I broke the news to her about my candidacy.

I wrote about my mother’s political influence on me and the impact of her death on my nascent campaign in Don’t Knock, He’s Dead: A Longshot Candidate Gets Schooled in the Unseemly Underbelly of American Campaign Politics:

I credit my mother Sandra Sachs, a diehard liberal Democrat from Boston who had a fascination with the Massachusetts Kennedy clan, a devotion to other charismatic pols and a penchant for volunteering for campaigns, for getting me interested in politics…

The Sun article provided me a nice opening salvo. Now I just had to back it up with real action. That is, as soon as I could plan a memorial service for my mother, meet and make plans with funeral directors, coordinate with out-of-town family, untangle her financial affairs, launch the bureaucratic estate settlement process with the Register of Wills, negotiate with her landlord, make repairs to her apartment, sell her furniture on Craigslist, and move all her other belongings out of her apartment within three weeks. Not the ideal way or frame of mind to launch a campaign.

So the first month of my campaign was put virtually on hold while I dealt with my mother’s affairs and coped with the sudden loss emotionally. In a spiritual way, I felt Sandra Sachs with me during the campaign, watching over me as I traveled door-to-door and marched with people who were struggling day-to-day. It occurred to me that maybe it was fate that I was running at all. It was my mother who loved politics and took pride in identifying herself as a Democrat, the party of inclusion and champion of the vulnerable, with her roots as the daughter of Eastern European immigrants who settled in the gritty outskirts of Boston and who lived a hardscrabble, working-class life. She would have been proud, I thought, looking down. No one from my family had ever run for political office before. The Kennedys we were not.

My mother’s keen interest in politics landed her on Capitol Hill as a staffer for U.S. Senators Bill Bradley (D-NJ), who ran for president in 2000, and Daniel Moynihan (D-NY), no small feat for a woman who spent her initial post-college years in the 1960s into the 1970s raising kids, and then battled back from debilitating depression to gain a foothold in the workforce.

At one candidates’ forum in particular, at a large residential retirement community outside of Baltimore, I felt my mother’s presence with me. I eschewed my usual stump speech in favor of an effort to connect with the seniors on an emotional and personal level, as excerpted from Don’t Knock, He’s Dead:

“I have a good idea of the issues you have faced and your current challenges,” I told the Charlestown [Retirement Community] residents, “but not because I read it or heard a policy wonk or a politician talk about them. I know from personal experience, from trying to help my mother with problems the last couple of years of her life before she died, when her health was going downhill.”

I told them about my mother’s challenges with downsizing and finding appropriate housing; exploring assisted living facilities; searching for viable transportation when she couldn’t drive; navigating a poorly coordinated, frustrating health care system; determining finances; and finding social outlets.

I wasn’t aiming for sympathy, but nevertheless several of the attendees and my fellow candidates offered me condolences and said my speech was heartfelt afterwards. Once again, I didn’t know if my speech had earned me any votes, but I was proud that it was memorable.

Nearly four years later, following a dinner celebrating my daughter Rebecca’s graduation May 20, 2017 from the University of Maryland, Rebecca told me she was sad that Nana – my mother – wasn’t there to celebrate with us. Another prideful campaign sadly missed. Whenever Maryland plays the University of Michigan, often now that Maryland is in Michigan’s athletic conference, Rebecca said she’ll think of her grandmother, who took great pride in transcending her poor, neurotic family in working class Malden, Massachusetts to arrive at a beacon of rah-rah American collegiate life in Ann Arbor, Michigan, and who ingrained the “Go Blue!” Michigan chant in her grandkids.

And I’ll always think of my mother when I recall my run for politics, one of her other great loves.

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Father Knows Best: A Tale of Political Nepotism & Campaign Finance Chicanery

My first-person account of my run for public office — the narrative nonfiction book Don’t Knock, He’s Dead: A Longshot Candidate Gets Schooled in the Unseemly Underbelly of American Campaign Politics — is replete with examples of corruption, malfeasance, deception, power plays, lust, shenanigans, shell games and other mechanisms that help office holders keep their buckets full and padlock the iron gates against intruders.

Here’s another political power tale that didn’t make the cut for the book from Sirenian Publishing, but includes some of the elements and may be added:

[NOTE: Names have been changed. Facts haven’t]

Shenanigans Galore

For a campaign story that contains multiple political shenanigans rolled into one endeavor — nepotism, cronyism, money shell games, political dynasties and bosses, powerful slates created to enrich one candidate, muddled, misdirected or deceptive fundraising requests, fatherknowsbestcoyness about poorly concealed political intentions – look no further than the Orlovski family from Dundalk, a blue-collar community neighboring Baltimore known for its brick row houses and supplying labor to the once-thriving, now defunct Bethlehem Steel plant and shipbuilding yard. Dundalk’s population decreased 27 percent over a 30-year period, tracking the decline of its lifeblood industries.

Dundalk is the type of place known for spawning old-style, pro-labor Chicago-like political bosses who dominate the landscape, strangle power like a World Wrestling Entertainment chokehold and determine who will rise to join the elite club, one that apparently commonly includes members with the “Jr.” suffix. After a half-century of rule, octogenarian Maryland Senator Marvin Rockledge, Jr. of Dundalk announced in 2013 it was time to leave the state legislature after 52 years and 13 consecutive terms. A media report said Rockledge rose to power after joining a local Democratic political club and getting a request (or a non-negotiable order?) from a club political boss known as “Iron Mike” to run for state delegate.

Family Dynasty

Rockledge didn’t leave the legislature empty-handed; he descended from the throne holding hands with Jimmy Orlovski, Jr., throwing his support to his hoped-for successor at Orlovski’s fundraiser and Senate announcement event the day after Rockledge made his retirement intentions known.

Orlovski, Jr. had a valuable political boss in his corner: his father, Jimmy Orlovski, Sr., a four-term Baltimore County Council member. Certainly, the senior Orlovski’s status as the east-side’s leader in the 800,000-population county surrounding Baltimore had something to do with Jimmy Orlovski, Jr. being appointed in 2006 to fill a vacated Maryland delegate seat at the tender age of 23, a year after starting a teaching career.

Later that year, young Jimmy won election to the Maryland House in his own right, and was re-elected in 2010. As it became clear that the aging Rockledge was on his last legs as Eastern Baltimore County’s state senator, the money shell game involving new political slates with altruistic-sounding monikers and influential, well-heeled politicians began.

Money Shell Game

First, Baltimore County Executive and rumored 2018 Maryland governor candidate David Denison transferred more than $100,000 from his campaign account to A Better Baltimore County Slate in early 2013. Members of that slate included Denison, Jimmy Orlovski, Sr. and two other local politicians.

Around the same time, another similar-sounding slate – Baltimore County Leadership Fund Slate – was established. That slate was comprised of the Orlovski father-son duo and three other local candidates.

Then, in early 2014, A Better Baltimore County Slate transferred $90,000 to the campaign account of Orlovski, Sr., even though he had announced he was retiring from the Baltimore County Council. So, in essence, Denison had given Orlovski, Sr., who had previously campaigned for Denison, a huge pot with which to play kingmaker by redistributing to other preferred candidates on his way out of office.

For some reason, Orlovski, Sr. held on to that $90,000 gift, which, when combined with his existing campaign fund, armed him with nearly $200,000 heading into an election in which he was not running. He gave sparingly to several Baltimore County Leadership Fund candidates during the 2014 election cycle, keeping his own account stout.

Perhaps that was because son Jimmy Orlovski, Jr. already was flush with cash and was running against a pauper Republican candidate that the political news outlet Center Maryland called a “non-entity” in a Democrat-dominated district that had elected the same Democrat to the state Senate since the 1960s.

Perhaps it was overconfidence – or a case of political hubris. But there must have seemed no way Billy Roy Townley, a former steel worker for more than 30 years with no political experience whose bio said only “attended” – not graduated – high school could defeat the two-term delegate Orlovski, Jr., an educator pursuing his doctorate in public policy who had already risen to chairman of Baltimore County’s House Delegation in the Maryland legislature and whose father was the widely-known, influential politician at the county level.

Money No Match for Anger

Jimmy Jr. outspent Townley by 20 to 1 in the election year — $242,000 to $12,000 – and, stunningly, lost, apparently the victim of the region’s shrinking Democratic labor vote and the trend of struggling, angry white working class voters bucking The Establishment and changing allegiances, the kind of surge that two years later powered Republican Donald Trump to the presidency.

Orlovski, Jr. “ran into a buzz saw of discontent in Dundalk, where voters were apparently sick of the three Os: the Orlovskis, [Maryland Governor Martin] O’Malley and Obama,” the Baltimore Sun analyzed.

Jimmy Jr., an acknowledged rising star among Democrats with all the insider connections, was unceremoniously tossed out, replaced by a political nobody, an outsider whose only listed credentials included membership in United Steel Workers of America and the Dundalk Moose Lodge, and service as a deacon and choir singer at the local Baptist church.

I can only imagine the Orlovskis incredulity at the family dinner table. The burgeoning family political dynasty upended by a career lunch-bucket steelworker who might not even have held his high school General Equivalency Diploma (GED)? Perhaps Pops should have slid Sonny an extra $100,000 through a slate financing scheme before the election so Jimmy Jr. could have enjoyed a 30 to 1 spending advantage. But in politics, as in baseball, there’s always next year.

Follow the Bouncing Dollar Bill

It didn’t take long for the Orlovskis to jump-start a revival for Jimmy Jr.’s now-moribund political career. A month after the November 2014 election fiasco, the Orlovski duo began fueling the family’s political rebirth. Just follow the bouncing dollar bill:

Jimmy Sr. transferred $130,000 from his own campaign account to the Baltimore County Leadership Fund Slate, whose five-candidate membership included both Orlovskis.

Two days after that transfer, the Baltimore County Leadership Fund Slate wrote a $130,000 check to Friends of Jimmy Orlovski, Jr., easily avoiding the law that limits transfers between candidates’ campaign accounts to $6,000 in an election cycle. Maryland slates are permitted to transfer unlimited amounts to the campaign accounts of individual members of the slate.

So, let’s review, diagram and simplify. Essentially, County Executive Denison gave a boatload of his cash to a slate comprised of a handful of candidates with the philanthropic-sounding goal of improving the community, A Better Baltimore County.

That slate gave $90,000 of the county executive’s cash to a politician who was retiring, thus had no need for campaign money, Orlovski, Sr. Senior funneled the county executive’s money, plus some of his own, through a second slate, the Leadership Fund, to which he belonged.

The cash sat in the Leadership Fund just long enough for the check to clear before that second slate dumped the whole lump sum of $130,000 into Orlovski, Jr.’s coffers.

Within nine months, the Leadership Fund Slate was shuttered, its apparent primary purpose of enriching and regenerating the Orlovskis political endeavors having been served.

Convoluted Political Resurrection

Like many ousted politicians, Orlovski, Jr. promptly signed up for a $90,000 lobbying gig with Baltimore City’s transportation department in 2015, where he could take advantage of fresh ties to influence former legislative colleagues.

Soon after, Orlovski, Jr. launched his political resuscitation, in convoluted fashion. In 2016, Orlovski, Jr. formed something called “Better Baltimore County,” not to be confused with A Better Baltimore County Slate, which was closed in January 2016. The website for Better Baltimore County described it as an organization created to “tell the stories of…unsung heroes and to inspire creative new partnerships.”

The Better Baltimore County website also included an authority line (Authority: Friends of Jimmy Orlovski, Jr., Ken Brandt, Treasurer) indicating it was tied to Orlovski, Jr.’s ongoing political campaign committee, designating the website as political marketing material. The same authority line appeared on Orlovski, Jr.’s personal website, which did little more in 2016 than promote Orlovski, Jr.’s Better Baltimore County and his career and personal background without announcing any particular political aim or office.

Orlovski, Jr. sponsored a fundraiser in August 2016 that the Dundalk Eagle said fueled speculation that he was considering a campaign for public office. Center Maryland reported earlier in the year that Orlovski, Jr. was one of three Democrats mobilizing to replace County Executive Denison, whose term would expire in 2018.

But Orlovski, Jr. remained coy, according to the Eagle, claiming that the money raised would fund his new creation, Better Baltimore County, giving only a vague nod that he was “keeping an open mind about 2018.”

The fundraiser was advertised on Orlovski, Jr.’s personal website, which makes no mention of Orlovski, Jr. being a candidate for any political office. So, what was the money contributed really for, Orlovski, Jr. the politician or some nebulous conception to promote people, businesses and organizations of Orlovski, Jr.’s choice through Better Baltimore County, honorees who, of course, could return the favor and assist Orlovski, Jr. in the event of a future Orlovski, Jr. candidacy?

Which begs the question: Was the benevolent, business-oriented Better Baltimore County and Orlovski, Jr.’s political quest one and the same, just an extension of an ambitious man’s ambiguous political campaign, as intertwined as the two entities were?

Nowhere on the Better Baltimore County website did it indicate that the group was registered as an official nonprofit organization or that it had any director, staff or supervisory board. In other words, it appeared accountable only to Orlovski, Jr. Apparently, Better Baltimore County was Orlovski, Jr. and Orlovski, Jr. was Better Baltimore County.

Was the organizational creation with the noble-sounding name, Better Baltimore County, just an ornamental tool used as a smokescreen to generate money for the real purpose: to help Orlovski, Jr. return to public office?

Orlovski, Jr.’s intention to highlight positive community works and foster collaboration may have been pure. But as an outsider looking in, Better Baltimore County and Orlovski, Jr., the overthrown politician, seem so enmeshed that I can’t help but think there is something concealed going on, if not downright disingenuous.

But it is not surprising, nor unusual. It is just part of the tangled web of politics that is best and most readily, expediently and successfully spun by insiders, for their advantage, to feed what often grows to an insatiable desire to wield influence, attract followers, bask in the limelight and gratify ego – and for many, Orlovski, Jr. certainly possibly included, to also advocate for their notion of the public good in the process.

Democrats: ‘Do the Opposite’

A significant portion of my midlife will be lived under a Donald Trump presidency.

Given that reality, I have advice for congressional Democrats: Take a page from Seinfeld’s George Costanza playbook, and “Do the Opposite.” See how it worked for George, like it george2can work for Democrats, here.

Democrats understandably will feel compelled to fight Trump and the Republican ruling class, and even though they don’t have the numbers, attempt to obstruct, as the GOP strategically did to Obama. Don’t do it. Resist the urge. Be compliant. Be like rubber.

Learn from these insightful, introspective reflections from George Costanza:

“It’s just not working.”

“Every instinct I have…it’s all been wrong.”

“Bald men with no jobs and no money who live with their parents don’t approach strange women.”

Democrats are now the bald men with no jobs and no money who live with their parents. So let the Republicans have their day…or four years. They’re expecting you to fight, posture, contest, provoke, make noise, level charges, hurl criticism, erect barriers, whine and complain. Don’t. Do the opposite.

Sure, try to do some nibbling around the edges of the Republican agenda, budget and bills, where maybe they’ll accept a stray amendment to shut you up. But otherwise, be the matador, and let the bull charge through your cape.

Let the Republican agenda unfold, whole and unfettered and unadulterated and without significant compromise. It’s the only way America will discover whether the GOP is imbued with brilliance or folly, whether Republicans have been blowhards full of hot air and empty rhetoric or they’re really onto something prescient, whether they’re firmly grounded or living in an alternate reality, whether they distinguish fact from fiction.

We have a baseline and trend lines to start with. Memorialize those. Let the GOP agenda play out over four years. Ensure nonpartisan experts analyze and document the results and make projections on future course. Four years should be enough time to indicate clear trends, if not definitive outcomes.

Only then will we know more conclusively whether the nation has suffered or gained, and who has done the suffering or gaining. Will people be hurt in the process? Possibly, but it will be the only way to know.

What will have happened to health care costs, health care accessibility and the ranks of the uninsured?

Will millions of manufacturing jobs have been created, or “brought back?”

What will the economic indicators show?

What will be America’s status in global trade and what will it mean to industry and the economy?

Will America be viewed internationally as a treasured ally or as an isolationist with a case of the heebie-jeebies?

Will ISIS still be living strong or dead?

What will have happened to families that include an illegal immigrant?

Will there be a Mexico-U.S. wall, and if so, at what cost and benefit?

Will America be more united or more divided?

Will the swamp be draining or flooding?

Will those screaming for change be better or worse off?

Will Americans perceive the country on the “right” or “wrong” track.

Will America be relying more heavily again on coal or “clean energy,” and what will be the effects of either path?

Will inner cities be revived? How will African-Americans in those areas answer Trump’s question: “What have you got to lose?”

We can then examine the evidence and facts (if indeed, either still have any currency), and know with a high degree of certainty where credit or blame lies. Then America will have a chance to make another judgment in a more transparent, less muddled environment on Trump and the GOP’s ideas and execution, out in the open, naked, with nowhere to hide and no Obama or Hillary to scapegoat.

It worked for George Costanza. It was unpredictable, confounding, paradoxically brilliant. Doing the same thing never worked for George. But doing the opposite…Anything could happen.

Author Interview: ‘Too Many Politicians…Are Chickens and Weasels’

In advance of author Adam Gordon Sachs’ author-signing appearance Aug. 23 at Bethany Beach Books in Bethany Beach, DE, Sirenian Publishing sat down with Sachs to discuss his new narrative nonfiction book, Don’t Knock, He’s Dead: A Longshot Candidate Gets Schooled in the Unseemly Underbelly of American Campaign Politics. The book recounts Sachs’ amusing,FrontCover_FINAL_6283732 exhilarating and disillusioning travails during his campaign for a Maryland House of Delegates seat and takes an inside look at the sometimes noble, but often corrupt and incestuous world of politics from an Everyman perspective.

Sirenian Publishing (SP): Why did you run for the Maryland legislature?

Adam Gordon Sachs (AGS): I wanted to advocate for a few specific things I believed in that would make a difference: universal access to affordable, essential health care, eliminating the profit-mongering health insurance companies; campaign finance reform to reduce the undue influence of corporate and PAC money; redistricting reform to take the corrupt process out of the hands of self-interested politicians; a reduced tax burden for the middle class; and sensible gun control laws. And I wanted to be somebody important, something common to politicians yet none will acknowledge.

SP: Why did you write a book about your campaign experience?

AGS: There are many books about politics, but nearly all are written by journalists who are observers, academics who are researchers, or politicians, who are career political professionals and millionaires detached from the masses, with help from biographers. I couldn’t find any books written by an “Everyman candidate” – a political amateur with no political machine or huge bankroll who tries to crash through the iron gates erected to keep out such outsiders. How many people can relate to a Hillary Clinton or a Donald Trump or a Bush — pick any? Only the Elite of the Elite. I believed average people who ever considered running for public office could relate to my experience and could get a glimpse of what it would be like to step across that terrifying threshold to candidacy.

SP: What did you find encouraging about your campaign experience?

AGS: There are honest, well-intentioned, civic-minded people who want to contribute their talents, ideas and efforts by getting involved in politics for the public good. I viewed the majority of the 10 candidates in my Democratic primary that way. I also felt involved in something exciting and meaningful during my campaign. There’s nothing like a political campaign to make you feel engaged, stimulated, challenged and alive.

SP: What was discouraging?

The insiders – the entrenched political class and their loyal henchmen – rule the business. Through the power they have obtained through their positions, name recognition through years in public office, large campaign bank accounts, political relationships, allegiances, and loyal corporate, PAC and union donors, they have a path to stay in office in perpetuity and to a large degree determine who will join them when a seat opens. It was discouraging to realize how much the ability to raise money – or spend a lot of your own – impacts electoral success, or even to have any chance to win at all.

It was frustrating to discover the organizations that make endorsements dismiss candidates with little regard for what they may stand for in office, but because they have too little money to be considered “viable.” It becomes a vicious cycle: If you don’t have enough money, you don’t get endorsements. If you don’t get endorsements, you have more difficulty proving you are “viable” and raising money.

It was also discouraging to observe how detached most citizens are from public life, and how disillusioned they are about politics and elected representatives as a whole.

SP: What’s the biggest problem you see in politics at the state level?

Too many politicians, especially those in the Democratic majority party, are chickens and weasels. They’re more concerned about staying in line with legislative leadership – protecting their own hides — so they can stay in office, continue reaping huge contributions from corporations and special interests, and get promoted through the ranks, than in taking a stand for positions that leadership may frown upon but many citizens would support. For example, the legislature failed to vote on a bill in 2016 that would ensure a modest amount of sick leave days per year for working people, the fourth year in a row the bill has failed. Leadership, which is in bed with big business, doesn’t want it. It’s the same with reforms for which I advocated – health care for all, campaign finance, and redistricting.

SP: What did you learn about yourself during your campaign?

AGS: I learned that I am not aggressive, ambitious and driven enough to do everything it takes – and you have to do a hell of a lot – to win a highly competitive election. Really,, the race reconfirmed some things that I already knew about myself that are shortcomings for a politician: I am a substandard salesperson and self-promoter; too reluctant to ask people for money, help and favors; and lean toward introversion, or being a lone wolf in a game that demands extroversion and a massive team effort. Those traits are not a winning formula for success in elections. I equated my campaign style to a general going into battle without an army, or even a tank, an excellent plan for getting slaughtered.

SP: What does it take to be successful as a candidate?

AGS: Extroversion. It’s difficult to be successful as a candidate if you are a private person and you don’t gain energy from constantly being around people, meeting new people, talking about yourself and being curious about others and their thoughts and concerns. If you lean toward introversion, you have to get in touch with your extroverted side and bring it out. You need confidence and the sincere belief that you will do a good job because you are smart, engaged and care about improving society and the effects of laws and government policies. However, I learned that you don’t necessarily have to stand for anything. You can just talk a good game, spout platitudes and feel good lines, and if you are properly connected and your bank account is fat, you have a great shot at success.

SP: Do you plan to run for office again?

AGS: No, never. I’m done. I always wondered if I could do it and relished the challenge, but now I’ve done it twice, the first time in 2006 for Howard County Council, with the same result. There will be no “third time’s a charm” for me. I can walk away with no regrets, because I know I gave it my best shot, and I understand the Herculean effort it may take to win, especially against incumbents, and I know I don’t have enough to give.

Don’t Knock, He’s Dead: A Longshot Candidate Gets Schooled in the Unseemly Underbelly of American Campaign Politics is available on Amazon in book or Kindle format: http://amzn.to/2az9j4O

Don’t Knock ‘Will Amuse Some, Infuriate Others’

The first review is in for my just-released nonfiction book about my campaign for Maryland delegate and a look at politics from the trenches, Don’t Knock, He’s Dead: a Longshot Candidate Gets Schooled in the Unseemly Underbelly of American Campaign Politics, and it’s a positive one.

The review comes courtesy of Jason Booms, a pollster and strategic communications FrontCover_FINAL_6283732counselor, and author of the Spartan Considerations political blog, which I followed during my campaign and referenced several times in the book.

Why am I pimping my own book on a blog about midlife issues? First, because writing a book was a lifelong goal that took until midlife to summon the commitment and perseverance to accomplish, when I realized “someday” might never come. (Don’t Knock is my second book; my first, a novel, Three Yards and a Plate of Mullet was published in 2015.) Second, I’ve learned that perhaps even harder than writing a book is marketing and selling a book. Just as in politics, as I learned through experience and detailed in Don’t Knock, He’s Dead, if you aren’t a persistent, unabashed and prolific self-promoter, you’ll never get anywhere in the public marketplace.

I’m pleased Booms wrote that Don’t Knock, He’s Dead will “amuse some and infuriate others.” That’s what I was aiming for: an account that pokes fun at the foolishness and shenanigans inherent in campaigns while also illuminating the questionable ethics, sleazy dealings and insider scheming that characterizes much of the business and its practitioners.

Here is Spartan Considerations’ July 26, 2016 review:

So I ordered my copy of Adam Gordon Sachs’ book, “Don’t Knock, He’s Dead: a Longshot Candidate Gets Schooled in the Unseemly Underbelly of American Campaign Politics” off of Amazon a few days ago. As you may know, he ran for Delegate in Maryland’s 12th House District in 2014.  

It is three parts campaign dairy, one part policy tract, one part biography, and one part of musings on politics as it is practiced, nationally and in Maryland, in the modern era.

As a big fan of the political campaign journal genre, I quite enjoyed Sachs’ tome. There are so many candidates for state legislature, yet one rarely has the opportunity to hear their stories.

Clocking in at around 340 pages, it is a surprisingly quick read. The chapters are largely short and story-driven, this is a good beach book.

There are, unsurprisingly, a number of familiar names in his narrative, including this author. If you like reading about local personalities and issues, then I highly recommend “Don’t Knock, He’s Dead.”

There was one editorial decision I found curious; he chose to provide sobriquets for candidates. It isn’t challenging to decipher who is who, if you followed the race. Some nicknames are complimentary, others less so.

I suppose I should disclose that I voted for Sachs, along with two others, in the vote-for-no-more-than-three lively multi-candidate Democratic primary election. And I wrote about his campaign, as did other bloggers who are also mentioned in Sachs’ work.

Overall, this is the kind of book that makes me think Mr. Sachs is unlikely to seek elective office in the future. His observations and anecdotes will amuse some and infuriate others. It reads like an honest account of his perspective on health care, campaign finance, and politics…so, in my opinion, it’s worth picking up.

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