Every Fourth of July, my Cleveland suburb of Bay Village has a Norman Rockwell-esque four-day town festival. Called Bay Days, the festival is held at our idyllic Cahoon Park on the shores of Lake Erie. There are carnival rides, a classic midway with the usual games, food booths (funnel cakes, pierogies, etc.), and other booths operated by community organizations. It is pure Americana.
One decades-long fixture at Bay Days has been the Bay Republican Club tent, featuring a putting game and Humphrey's popcorn balls (a Cleveland tradition associated with the bygone Euclid Beach amusement park) for those who sink a shot or two. This humble tent has, over the years, been the optimal place for local GOP candidates to stop by and spend a few hours campaigning in a relaxed setting each July Fourth holiday, introducing themselves to Mr. and Mrs. Voter and then offering their son or daughter a friendly pointer or word of encouragement as they take a crack at sinking a putt. "Ooh! So close...here—have a popcorn ball anyway. Nice meeting you all!"
As GOP city captain the past 5-plus years, organizing the Bay Days GOP tent (lining up volunteers to help set up and staff the booth for 40 hours over four days) has been primarily my responsibility. This year, I was out of state, on vacation, during Bay Days. Frankly, I was glad to be. The Trump virus has soured me to the point that I'd have been embarrassed to man a GOP booth with Donald Trump as the current face of our party. But not only was your humble GOP city captain "otherwise disposed" and not there to oversee the GOP tent. There was little interest from others in helping to ensure that the tent was up and running throughout the festival.
As a result, on getting back into town, I had a message from our local GOP candidate for state representative, a truly impressive guy whose focus on the Cuyahoga County council has been much-needed ethics reform and good government. He was frustrated and disappointed, having arrived at Bay Days at 4 p.m. on the Fourth of July—prime campaigning time—to find that the GOP tent had already been dismantled and taken away, to be stored for another year. Meanwhile, he said, the Democrats had an unusually strong presence as the fireworks approached, with several local candidates in attendance.
Perhaps next year, or the year after, when the Trump infection has run its course, and a new era of Clintonian corruption is in full bloom, some Republicans in Bay Village will have an appetite to make the Bay Days Republican tent great again. I doubt I will be among them. Once the suicidal Trump nomination has been made official later this month, seventeen miles east of Cahoon Park, I will be submitting my formal resignation as my town's Republican leader. The nomination of a demagogue like Donald Trump wipes out everything I've tried to do over the last few years to spread a positive, inclusive message of limited government and conservative solutions that benefit everyone. Suddenly, with Cleveland winning its first sports championship since 1964, my city is no longer the national joke. My party is.