Listening Posts: Where People Talk Politics Voters Pepper Breakfast With Politics Around The Region, Residents Find Plenty To Chew On When It Comes To The General Election

Political attack ads blister the airwaves, featuring candidates clashing in verbal duels. Billboards line the streets, flashing toothy smiles and catchy campaign cliches. Fliers overflow mailboxes, promising tax cuts, welfare reforms and more - or less - government regulation.

In less than a month, the campaigns will disappear like so much Halloween candy. But for the next three weeks, many people will dabble in casual conversations about the political news of the day.

At cafes and coffee shops around the region, The Spokesman-Review found strangers and friends talking politics.

‘I’ll vote for somebody’

They gather at least two times a week around a table by the door at Waffles Plus on North Monroe - a group of eight to 10 retirees with mixed political leanings.

On one recent morning, they’re scraping up the last of their waffles and eggs, draining coffee cups and waving away the energetic waitress gunning to pour still another refill.

Their talk has bounced from baseball to bumpy streets to lottery receipts.

It’s landed with a splat on Ellen Craswell, a born-again Christian vying to be Washington’s next governor.

“She’s mixing her religion and her politics,” says Florence Black. “That’s kind of bad.”

“She’ll call for a service before every session,” says Fred Koch.

Their pal Loren Moos, a former Lincoln County commissioner, isn’t flipping cartwheels over Craswell’s opponent.

“I don’t think we should fund that stadium over there,” says Moos, pointing out that King County Executive Gary Locke supported spending state tax dollars on the $325 million Mariners baseball park.

“I’m against that,” says Koch.

“They can find $300 million to do that, and they still can’t fix the streets,” says Moos.

“They can always find it for studies and stuff,” says Black.

“I don’t think we have much of a choice” in the governor’s race, she says. “They’re both pretty scary.”

“I think (Locke) is too coastal-oriented,” Koch says.

Florence Black’s husband, Boyd, is so disenchanted with his choices - particularly in the presidential race - he mentions he might sit this election out.

“I might not even vote,” he says. “Not much of a choice with Slick Willie and Old Man Dole.”

A round of gentle chastising from his buddies bursts Black’s bravado.

“Oh, I’ll vote for somebody,” he says with a resigned grin.

If it isn’t broken, why fix it?

An hour before dawn, men in overalls, flannel shirts and ball caps start pulling up to the “farmers’ table” at Allen’s Restaurant in Colfax.

Amid the clink of plates and silverware, they gather each morning to eat breakfast, smoke and kick around the news.

Most are farmers. A few are mechanics or road workers. Several were classmates at Colfax High School in the 1960s. All are men, and if there’s a Democrat anywhere in the group, he’s keeping quiet.

“I don’t know anybody here that hasn’t been here 30 years,” says Chuck Lyman, glancing around. He uncaps a chewing tobacco tin and tucks some in his lower lip.

Several of the men know Judy Olson, a Democrat and fourth-generation farmer from Garfield who’s challenging Republican U.S. Rep. George Nethercutt. One man says he’ll vote for Olson - he knows and likes her. But the rest make it clear they’re voting for Nethercutt.

If it isn’t broken, they say, why fix it?

“Nethercutt’s trying to shrink government, reform welfare, balance the budget,” says Terry Leinweber. “(Olson’s) for bigger government and more entitlements.”

Several criticize the attack ads against Nethercutt being run by the AFL-CIO.

“The ads are trumped up,” says Leinweber. “He’s not out there to cut everyone’s throat on Medicaid.”

“I think Nethercutt’s an honest man. That’s good enough for me,” adds another man. A snapshot of Nethercutt hangs near the glass pie case. The photo was taken two months ago, when he and Sen. Slade Gorton stopped in for breakfast.

While Olson may be winning few votes here, Bill Clinton’s winning none.

“A damned snake,” one farmer says of Clinton.

“Socialist,” declares another.

“He’s a rattler without his buttons,” adds a third.

“Most people here work for a living,” says one man, reaching for a coffee urn. “And with Clinton, damn near all of us have to have a bookkeeper to keep up with the forms and the paperwork. Plus, he wants to take our shotguns back.”

Though most are voting for Dole, they’re lukewarm about him.

“Dole’s a Republican version of Tom Foley. But I’m going to vote for Dole,” says Lyman.

“I don’t like him, but he’s the lesser of two evils,” adds another man.

As the sun begins hitting the pickups in the parking lot, the men pay their tabs and wander off to jobs and farms.

“That’s one thing about farming,” says Lyman. “There’s never a shortage of talking.”

‘I don’t think they tell the truth.’

At 32, Michael Metters teeters on the edge of the X-generation - that nebulous grouping of individuals born after 1963 that isn’t part of the baby boomer generation.

Like many people his age and younger, Metters says, he’s disenchanted with politics and politicians.

“I don’t think they tell the truth,” says Metters, a financial consultant, as he pores over a newspaper while sipping a latte at Lindaman’s Gourmet-to-Go on the South Hill.

“Wouldn’t you vote for the guy who said ‘This is what happened, and I was involved in it?”’

“We’re all disillusioned,” says Steve Faucher, 26, who works part-time behind Lindaman’s coffee counter, but on this particular day, is just hanging out.

Faucher says many members of his generation feel strangled by high expectations that can’t be met with the available low-paying jobs. “They see what they’d like out of life, but they realize the impossibility of getting it.”

These are the problems politicians don’t solve that desperately need solving, he says. “I vote, but that’s a recent change to my life. I didn’t before … You have to move through the negative.”

“There’s a big sense out there that our vote doesn’t count,” says Metters. “That’s what the authoritarian government wants us to think.”

Marc Creller, 32, joins in the conversation.

“People don’t make their voices heard anymore,” he says. “We still control this country, but we don’t believe it anymore.”

All three say they refuse to follow the older generation’s motto: Vote for the lesser of two evils.

Instead, the trio is opting for a third candidate.

“Vote for Ralph Nader,” Faucher says.

, DataTimes