Caucuses attract campaign entrepreneurs

CLINTON, Iowa – The caucuses have brought thousands of campaign volunteers, strategists, pollsters, media consultants and reporters to this state. They have also attracted people like Jeremy Beggun, who is a kind of campaign entrepreneur.

Beggun, 35, is a fixture at events sponsored by both Republicans and Democrats, hawking T-shirts and buttons featuring pictures of the candidates or blunt critiques of members of the rival party.

At a recent event for former Sen. John Edwards (D-N.C.) here, Beggun had a full display of his offerings. T-shirts sold for $12, and buttons went for $5 for one or $10 for three. Most buttons had a picture of Edwards with an American flag or the Capitol dome in the background.

Another had photographs of President Bush, Vice President Dick Cheney and former Defense Secretary Donald Rumsfeld under an off-color paraphrase of the famous “Axis of Evil” line.

 “We’re not offering ‘A—- for Evil T-shirts. They’d sell, though,” Beggun says.

Six months ago, Beggun was living and working in Sarasota, where he repaired refrigerators in backrooms or air conditioners on hot Florida rooftops for local restaurants.

“I’m the guy who shows up before your food goes bad,” he says.

Working to build his own business, Beggun decided to take a break to accept an invitation from a friend to help him peddle campaign paraphernalia in Iowa and other states. He figures he drives between 300 to 500 miles a day, often regardless of the weather.

Beggun came to Clinton despite a storm that left at least five inches of snow on the ground and made travel treacherous.

His days often start at 8 a.m. and last until midnight; the hours depend on the candidate he is traveling with that day. By day, he lives out of his van. At night, he finds whatever Motel 6 is nearby after the last event.  

 “It’s like being an over-glorified Carnie, but there is a lot of work to it,” Beggun said.

Typically, there is a rush of people to wait on after candidates have finished their speeches in the art museum auditoriums, school libraries or convention centers where voters congregate with the dedication of churchgoers.

“You go insane for an hour and a half, and then you just try to take a breath. If you can bartend, you can do this,” he said.

Sue Everson, who brought her young daughter in this town to see Edwards on Friday afternoon, bought a John Edwards 2008 button before he began speaking.

“I’ve listened to all of them, and he’s the best person from my standpoint,” she said. “He’s been poor, he’s been rich, so he sees things from all sides.”

 Several “good riddance” buttons that feature a picture of George Bush also moved.

 In all, Beggun estimates he sells a few hundred buttons in a day. The money goes to him and his three co-workers, who are also part of the business, and living expenses. Beggun says there is one rival operation.

Although they do not get any of the money, the candidates like seeing him because the T-shirts and the buttons amount to free advertising for them, Beggun says. He says he is almost on a first name basis with a few of the candidates and their spouses. He is particularly found of Mrs. Edwards, a gesture from whom can bring an air of legitimacy and a boom in business.

 “One wave from Elizabeth and sales go up 5,000 percent,” Beggun says.

 Gregarious and friendly, Beggun describes himself as a street kid from New Jersey. He is also a natural salesman, the one limitation being he sometimes loses his voice after a long day of encouraging customers to step right up.

At the Edwards event, Beggun had on blue jeans, a T-shirt and a sweater with a zipper that looked like a favorite article of clothing of his. At Republican events, though, he says usually wears a tie.

“I’ll kick it up a notch,” he says. “You have to play to the people.”

Beggun plans to continue on the trail until the election. He says he expects to make at least in the high five figures.

But the job has more to offer than money. He gets to travel around the country and get a closer look at the process than most.

“I get a buzz out of it because I’m this little piece of history,” he says, holding up his fingers about an inch apart.

“It beats the hell out of going up on rooftops and wrenching, welding and soldering in 120 degree heat.”