MARIETTA, Ohio -- In this riverboat town in southeast Ohio, the shopkeepers and firefighters and teachers are so proud of their historic city that they quickly tell you that "Marietta" was the answer -- in the form of a question, of course -- on "Jeopardy" the other night.
The city claims the mantle of being the first settlement in the Northwest Territory. But the game-show clue could have been something like this: a small town, typical of many across the country in the pre-election fall of 1994, where voters -- struggling to balance their own budgets despite an economic upswing -- are feeling everything from apathy to antipathy toward their elected officials.
"Government seems to be a good way to corrupt honest people," says Phillip O'Brien, who owns a camera and stereo shop in Marietta. "The whole operation has gone to muck."
A sweep of more than 1,000 miles around five states in the eastern part of the country last week revealed an electorate percolating with anxiety and insecurity, voicing skepticism about the improved economy and looking for someone or something to blame.
"The anxious class" is how Labor Secretary Robert B. Reich describes the middle class.
"For the first time, people have the idea that they're not going to leave things better for their children," says Frank Deremer, a retired banker in Cumberland, Md.
Running through their lives -- and their angst -- is a profound disenchantment with politics and government. They expected a boom after years of spiraling downward. And they haven't seen it or felt it.
In fact, Americans say they are working harder and getting less than they ever have, while seeing politicians indulge in perks and privileges, engage in partisan bickering and dirty campaigning instead of serious debate, and remain out of step with real America.
"You should take the average Joe off the street and make him a senator," says Virginia Stevens, a Ross Perot supporter who's slinging roast beef sandwiches and chef salads at Spanky's Restaurant in Lynchburg, Va. "Hard-working Joes like us know what it's like to scrape for a dollar, raise a family and work in a restaurant."
Much of the hostility is vague and unfocused, as if the president, Congress, the news media -- just by virtue of positions of influence -- were all the enemy.
Some of the anger, from both Democrats and Republicans, has been channeled into outrage over specific issues, such as welfare, illegal immigrants and foreign aid, which have become lightning rods throughout Middle America. Voters feel tugs at their purse strings, but see the government handing out money to others who they believe are less deserving, less hard-working.
"Being a Christian, I believe in missionary work," says Goldie Oskin, a retired teacher in Duquesne, Pa., a steel-mill town that is now a bleak and depressed relic on the Monongahela River. "But I also believe you should take care of your own."
And while the desperate cries of the unemployed have died down, the work force has become a different place, giving rise to new problems for Americans. As companies scale back and restructure, workers are often employed in part-time or low-wage jobs, fail to get health-care benefits and receive few raises or promotions.
Paula Meneghini is grateful that her husband, an engineer for a West Virginia defense contractor, was not laid off when the company stream lined. But because his salary has been frozen, she works part-time as a sales clerk at J. C. Penney.
Even those who have benefited from a healthier economy in the last year, such as Larry Hall, who bought a Marietta jewelry store three months ago after interest rates had fallen, feel overburdened and underserved by government.
"Unlike my customers, I don't think I'm getting my money's worth a customer," says Mr. Hall, who says he's "appalled" by the taxes he's had to pay on the business.
Much like the anger and revolt that fueled the change-oriented 1992 presidential campaign, especially the candidacy of Mr. Perot, this disgruntlement with government has fed on itself for the past two years and blinded many voters to the accomplishments of any politicians.
And it is playing itself out in the anti-incumbent sentiment that is expected to expel gray hairs and freshman members alike in next week's election. In some cases, voters know little about the candidates except who's old and who's new.
'A complete clean house'
Diane Adkins, 49, a widow and mother of three in Beckley, W. Va., says the much-ballyhooed economic recovery has not made it to her dinner table or her gas tank. And she is ready to take out her anger at the voting booth.
"I want a complete clean house -- and I do mean clean!" says Ms. Adkins, a Democrat who says she's in favor of "everyone new."
In this middle-class resort town, she stops in at a Wal-Mart to see her 73-year-old mother, Ian Daniels, who's working at the store to supplement her fixed income.
"I'm afraid to get old," says Ms. Adkins, who has received Social Security since the death of her husband, a coal miner. "What do I have to look forward to? No health care insurance. No Social Security. No nothing. Security is a thing of the past. Independence is becoming a thing of the past. The American Dream is gone."
If anyone seems to be living the American Dream, it is Lynn and Paula Kendle and their two sons. As the sun sets on their handsome farm in Beaver Creek on the outskirts of Hagerstown, Md., with lush Appalachian mountains on the horizon, 7-year-old Mark rides his bike in the driveway, the beef cattle moo, and Mr. Kendle heads home from the corn and soybean fields.
Married for 20 years, the Kendles bought their first home -- a 150-year-old stone house across the street from their farm -- last month.
But somehow, their progress and picture-postcard life is overshadowed by insecurity. Their expenses have escalated, especially as the government has imposed new regulations on fertilizers and chemicals. But the prices they receive for their goods have not changed since the 1970s.
"I think I'll survive it, but it doesn't look good for my sons," Mr.
Kendle says.
They are Perot Democrats, and they don't believe politicians have their interests at heart or understand how hard they work and how little they make. So they're voting for Republicans this time. "We wouldn't trade this life for anything," says Mrs. Kendle, who recently enrolled at Hagerstown Community College so she can become a paralegal if the family farm dissolves. "But they can't understand how hard it is."
'Worse than lawyers'
So dizzy with disillusionment are many voters that politicians can't seem to win no matter what they do. Just mention the word "politician" and the response is a harrumph, a sneer, a roll of the eyes and then an exclamation: "crooks," "brain dead," "worse than lawyers."
"It's kind of like boxing," Steve Pannell says as he wraps his hands at the Hill City Boxing Club in Lynchburg. "Outside, it seems legit, but on the inside, it's as crooked as anything else."
In Marietta, a conservative pocket on the Ohio River, Rep. Ted Strickland, a freshman Democrat, faces a tough re-election bid, a possible victim of incumbency. Two years ago, two typically Republican voters helped elect Mr. Strickland, hoping he was an agent of change.
But now, Genevieve Schafer, a funeral home owner, believes that the congressman voted the party line during his term and has not represented his constituents. Will Dimit, a business owner, is equally disenchanted but for opposite reasons.
When Mr. Strickland voted against gun control bills, following the wishes of his pro-gun district, Mr. Dimit saw those votes as hypocritical moves by a politician he believes is at heart an anti-gun liberal Democrat.
"He voted that way because of politics, and that turned me completely off," says Mr. Dimit, banging his fist on the counter of his clothing store. "I don't want a politician over there representing me. I want someone who's got his feet on the ground, not making decisions based on politics."
Voters say they are also turned off by the negative campaigning and by the focus on the scandalous details of candidates' personal lives.
Jennifer Bridgforth, a senior at Randolph-Macon Women's College in Lynchburg, says she won't vote next week as a protest against the nasty Senate race between Democratic incumbent Charles S. Robb and Republican challenger, Oliver L. North.
Her friend Jennifer M. Squillante, a senior majoring in politics, says she would love to run for public office one day but wouldn't dare under the present climate of scrutiny and mudslinging. As a college freshman, she got into trouble -- breaking the honor code by not turning in friends who had stolen a credit card -- and can visualize the TV ads and the pounding that would come her way.
'Walk in my shoes'
Walking up the street with bags of leftover ribs, greens and corn that a public school was about to throw out, Toni Reid of Duquesne says Washington's failure to pass any kind of health care reform is proof that politicians have no idea what Americans are up against.
A 43-year-old mother of three, on and off welfare for the past 20 years, she is working three part-time jobs. She wrote President Clinton a seven-page letter this year, begging him to get his reform package passed.
"Everyone in Washington has got health care insurance," says Ms. Reid, whose benefits cover only a small portion of the cost of a hysterectomy she underwent this year. "They ought to try living on what we make and getting sick and having to have an operation. Walk in my shoes. Live my life, and you'll see."
Many voters mention the failure of health care reform as a prime example of a government so ensnared in politics and one-upmanship that it can't get anything accomplished.
"Even when everyone can agree something needs to be fixed -- like welfare or health care -- they can't get a consensus on how to do it, there's so much bickering," says Mark Moessinger, a state worker in Cumberland. "Everything I see convinces me term limits are essential."
Mr. O'Brien, the shopkeeper in Marietta, agrees. If there can't be a revolution, then the electorate will have to remove the guys "who've been in there since the day the Earth's crust cooled."
Was he always this angry?
As he dusts the stereo systems in his camera and sound store, he thinks it over. Maybe he has been and he just didn't know it.
"I haven't felt good about government since I started paying attention."