- I spoke to voters and a mayor in Northampton, one of two bellwether counties in Pennsylvania.
- Many talked about the economy, especially inflation, but had very different ideas on whom to blame.
- The mayor told me that politics are local — and the election will likely come down to grocery bills.
It was windy in eastern Pennsylvania on Monday, October 14. As shoppers walked out of two local supermarkets, gusts whipped their grocery bags, threatening to leave a mess of milk, chicken breast, and cereal in the parking lot. Losing groceries would be a blow for many of the shoppers I spoke with, whose votes are disproportionately important in the presidential election that’s less than three weeks away.
Forks and Palmer townships are in Northampton, one of only two bellwether counties in Pennsylvania — it went for former President Barack Obama twice, former President Donald Trump in 2016, and President Joe Biden in 2020 by less than one percentage point. The county’s Democratic-leaning cities of Easton and Bethlehem are surrounded by more Republican, rural areas, making Northampton the type of elusive swing district we read and think so much about.
Both Vice President Kamala Harris and Trump were in Pennsylvania on the same Monday, courting voters at a rally and town hall respectively. With its 19 electoral votes, Pennsylvania is arguably the most crucial state in the country this presidential election.
Mayor Salvatore J. Panto Jr. knows Pennsylvania, and especially Northampton County, well — a moderate Democrat who has lived in Easton his entire life, he’s in his sixth term as the city’s mayor. Panto spoke with me in his office, where photos of his grandchildren and relics of the city’s annual garlic fest line the shelves. A toy police car sits on his coffee table, a small American flag on his desk.
Alice Tecotzky
“We were trending toward Kamala, but I think they’re losing ground as we get closer and closer to the election,” Panto said. He predicts, like many others, that the margins in Pennsylvania will be slim and the results decided by voters’ impression of the economy.
“People go to the store and that’s where — that’s their bellwether. Their bellwether is, how much am I paying for eggs? How much am I paying for bread? How much am I paying for milk?” he said, before pointing out the importance of gas prices, too.
The cost of food matters
When I spoke to voters leaving the two stores — the Giant in Forks Township and the Walmart in Palmer Township — Panto’s hypothesis was largely proved correct. When asked about the issues motivating them, many gestured at the contents of their carts and said the economy, especially inflation (which has cooled significantly, even though prices remain higher than a few years ago).
“I think it’s the top of everybody’s concern right now — the gas prices, the economy, food prices,” Ann Hess, 70, told me outside the Giant. “It’s a big deal. This was almost $40! Three bags and there’s no meat in here.” And this, Hess pointed out, was just for her — a widow and retired nurse, she’s voting for Harris. She said she doesn’t trust Trump to handle the economy or much of anything else.
I felt like a pinball machine, standing there in the Giant parking lot and talking to the people who might very well decide the state of Pennsylvania, which might very well decide the election. There was Vivian M., 50, who said she is most concerned about inflation and frustrated that Harris hasn’t done more during her time in office. There was 46-year-old Michelle Kerns, who said she doesn’t think Harris gets enough credit for easing inflation. It was an afternoon of political whiplash as I walked with people to their cars.
None of this was particularly surprising — there’s a reason that Harris and Trump are both dumping the most money into purple Pennsylvania. Still, seeing people step out of the same store with the same price tags and reach such different conclusions about whom to blame felt like standing in a parking-lot-sized microcosm of the country.
Alice Tecotzky
People talked about topics beyond the economy, of course, many of which I expected — the border, reproductive rights, and general division. Three women told me that abortion access is their top priority, including Kerns and Hess, who mentioned her four granddaughters.
I was surprised by the number of men who named reproductive rights as their motivating issue — a recent poll from the Wall Street Journal found that significantly more women than men in battleground states call abortion access their priority. Daryl Thompson, 72, said he’s scared we’re going “to take a giant, 1950s leap back.”
“Why is everybody playing God?”
Two other male retirees told me about similar concerns. Bob George, 66 and a former Yuengling Beer salesman, mentioned his daughter. Edward Pyatt, 60, stopped talking in the abstract and switched to the second-person, reminding me there was a time when people didn’t want me, personally, to vote.
“Why is everybody playing God?” the Easton-native asked outside of Walmart. “Everybody is playing God! I cannot tell you what to do with your body.”
Pyatt said he thinks other Black men aren’t voting for Harris partly because they’re scared of electing a woman — many of the women I talked to mentioned a gender gap among their friends, but none made as sharp an accusation as Pyatt.
Both Pyatt and George said they voted for Trump in the past, the former twice and the latter only in 2016. Pyatt told me that he hoped Trump would bring change, but his out-of-pocket prices have remained consistent. And on top of that, he said he thinks the former president is “very disrespectful.” When I asked George what changed about Trump between 2016 and 2020, he quickly shot back, “Him.”
“I just think he’s a little — I don’t trust him,” he told me, shaking his head. “I just don’t trust him at all. He says things and this Project 2025 he’s going to use, I feel.” But George, for all of his conviction, didn’t seem interested in arguing with people, or convincing them to think differently. He said his son supports Trump, his daughter Harris. They all live in Northampton County, he said.
“There’s a big divide here. But I respect him. He can vote for whoever he feels is good for him,” George said of his son.
Nearly everyone I spoke to said their friends and family are split, that Pennsylvania really is as up-for-grabs as the polls say. Yet some of those I interacted with — or tried to interact with — had no interest in being in the national spotlight, or being labeled as an all-important battleground voter.
I heard many iterations of “I’m not following the election” or “I’m sick of talking about it” on Monday afternoon. One woman even told me she was writing in her dog’s name instead of Trump or Harris. And there were those who insisted they had nothing to say but couldn’t seem to help themselves, like the woman who barreled past me with her cart before turning around to yell, “Taxes!”
Panto, the Easton mayor, told me he sees widespread political disengagement in the county. Really, he said that all politics are local — what I heard in the parking lots is, maybe, more telling than national trends and broad political guesswork. To many voters in his county, Panto suspects that their everyday finances will ultimately decide the election.
“That’s what it comes down to,” he said. “Out of my paycheck every week how much goes to my mortgage, how much goes to my food bill, and how much goes to my gasoline bill?”
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