Saturday, Aug. 12, 2006 | 7:28 a.m.
Telephone banks to drum up support for candidates are a time-honored tradition in political campaigns - not quite as personal as a knock on the front door by the candidate, but more intimate than a TV commercial or billboard. Here is a peek into the phone banks operated by the two Democratic candidates for governor, Henderson Mayor Jim Gibson and state Senate Minority Leader Dina Titus of Las Vegas.
Jim Gibson
"Hello! I'm calling with the Jim Gibson campaign for governor and I wanted to tell you ... uh huh, oh ... You know what, once you vote you'll be taken off our list for calls. I'm so sorry ... uh huh ... That's what we're told to do, sir ... I can imagine ... I'm sure you're getting the calls from every campaign. Oh, that's terrible ... OK, thank you and have a great day."
Gail Wilcock, one of a dozen Gibson volunteers working this evening, hangs up the phone shaking her head.
"He was nice considering he was so irritated," says Wilcock, a longtime Gibson neighbor.
Joining Wilcock at the phones are nieces, nephews, cousins and close friends of the Gibson family. Most of them wear blue T-shirts with a large "S" emblem on the front, the colors and design echoing Superman's trademark.
Plenty about Gibson's campaign is homemade, from the desk nameplates carefully lettered in Magic Marker, to the plastic container crammed with snickerdoodle cookies.
Since early voting began at the end of July, Gibson's campaign has run its phone bank at least five days a week. The volunteers, 10 to 12 of them, call 1,500 people every night.
They work inside an old furniture store on Sunset Road. Because the showroom lights heat up the room, they're kept off as much as possible. Summer sunshine pours in through the storefront's windows. Against one wall is the snack table, loaded with sweet rolls, chocolate-dipped doughnuts and Twinkies.
There's also a supply of the official campaign beverage - bottled water with the label "Gibson for Governor."
But it isn't Henderson water, or even Nevada water.
"It's ordered from somewhere back East, and they ship it out," Gibson field coordinator Matt Higginson says.
The taupe carpet is badly stained by spilled soda and the greasy tracks of a hand cart. On the walls are handwritten motivational posters, quoting Winston Churchill and Jimmy Carter.
"Obstacles are the frightful things you see when you take your eyes off the goal," reads one sign, posted above the row of 12 black office telephones.
Armed with computer printouts of names and phone numbers, volunteers ring voters who, in an earlier phone survey, said they would likely support Gibson. The volunteers recite a script urging people to take advantage of the early voting option. The results of the calls are recorded on a log sheet.
One of the volunteers, BYU junior Joseph Walker, speaks to the familial bond in the room: "Jim's actually my uncle. My sister's here tonight, my cousin - we've worked on his campaigns every time."
The star of the phone bank is Amy Sue Hales, who brings into the room her relentless good cheer from her day job. She's a first grade teacher.
"Hello! I'm calling to tell you about two early voting locations in your neighborhood," Hales chirps. "Mayor Gibson needs your support now more than ever ... Thank you, and you have a wonderful day!"
Hales says Gibson will make an exceptional governor. And she should know. "I'm a friend of the family ... Actually, I'm a niece by marriage," she says.
While family ties are the rule among the volunteers, there are exceptions, such as Roger LeBel, 80. LeBel has not met Gibson, although he saw him at an early voting kickoff event in July. LeBel was impressed enough to put his lifelong party affiliation aside.
"I'm usually a Republican, but I like Mayor Gibson and I told myself I would come down here and lend him a hand," says LeBel, a Boston native who moved to Henderson nine years ago.
"Have you tried these chocolate doughnuts? They're wonderful."
Dina Titus
The second-floor suite in the Flamingo Road office park is both immaculate and forgettable. Downright institutional. Dark brown carpet, light brown walls, a few green plastic plants in woven baskets.
A dozen computer terminals line the perimeter of the room, a dangling phone headset connected to each. The names of professional telemarketers are listed on a board, followed by the number of sales they've closed so far this week. A sign on the wall reminds workers that 50 closed deals equals a $50 bonus.
But the day crew is gone and on this evening, another batch of callers is on the job, with a different goal in mind.
They're selling Dina Titus for governor.
"Wow, got a vote!" announces Al Lopez, one of 18 volunteers who show up for a three-hour shift. He turns to a reporter: "Oh yeah, when someone says they're voting for Dina Titus, it feels like a big-time accomplishment."
Lopez is an organizer for the sheet metal workers' union, one of 40 labor groups to back Titus. The roster of tonight's volunteers also includes a board member for the state chapter of the National Organization for Women, a real estate attorney and a UNLV graduate student. There's also Susan Reynolds, a consultant who specializes in helping nonprofit groups secure funding for international development.
Reynolds says she's helping organize Titus volunteers because she's angry at President Bush.
"I've been so disgusted with the way things are going, and decided to get involved at a more local level ... and I realized she was the candidate who best represented my point of view."
Titus' phone bank is just a stone's throw from UNLV, where she has taught political science for nearly 30 years.
"It's a more sophisticated setup and a more focused environment (than the main campaign office)," campaign spokeswoman Jennifer Knight says. "Here, we're dedicated to doing one thing."
And it's high-tech.
A computer screen tracks the number of completed calls, the lag time between dialing and percentage of voters who stay on the phone and listen. Using an auto-dialing software system, the volunteers see the names of voters at the top of their computer screen while the computer dials.
If there's a busy signal, the computer goes on to the next number.
When a call goes through, volunteers read from a script on their screen.
Tonight's goal is to persuade registered but undecided voters to support Titus.
The volunteers type into the computer whether the people on the other end of the line profess to be on Titus' side, are disinterested - or if they hang up. Sean Bertram, the campaign's field director, monitors the results on his computer screen.
The drill almost sounds like piece work at a factory. Less than an hour into the evening, Bertram knows that 812 numbers have been dialed, with 555 connecting to either people or answering machines. He can also tell how long the volunteers are pausing between calls. So far, the pace is humming, although Bertram wouldn't mind seeing the pace pick up slightly. He expects it will later, as newer volunteers become more comfortable with the software program.
One thing the software can't do is speak Spanish. But Adriana Martinez does.
A volunteer waves for Martinez to come over to her phone - there's a voter at the other end who prefers to speak in Spanish.
Martinez hustles over, as she does a half-dozen times every evening.
"People are so appreciative when there's someone who speaks their language," says Martinez, a former chairwoman of the Nevada State Democratic Party. "They want to talk about education and jobs, and I can answer their questions."
At the Titus campaign's main office, drawers are crammed with candy. Homemade baked goods are brought in daily. And pizza accompanies nearly every meeting.
But at the phone bank, the pickings are more humble. A cardboard box dispenses Starbucks' coffee in the kitchenette, and someone has contributed a small plastic bag of individually wrapped Life Savers. A carton of McDonald's french fries goes fast.
As the volunteers make call after call, the hum of conversation is steady. There are apologies for interrupting dinners, expressions of thanks for promises of support and continuous recitations of the script into answering machines and voice mailboxes.
There's no way of knowing how many of the voters will really choose Titus, who will say "Yes" just to get off the phone, or will change their minds when they reach the polls.
"The ultimate feedback is going to be Aug. 15," Knight says.
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