With a stunning turn, Connecticut’s junior senator became the boast of the Jewish community in New Haven and a momentous barrier-breaker for Jews across the country.
The news that Sen. Joseph I. Lieberman would be the first Jew to run for top national office on a major-party ticket was met with widespread elation. But there was also trepidation for those who fear the high stakes that come with making history.
“He’s the political equivalent of Jackie Robinson for the Jewish community,” said Abraham Foxman, national director of the Anti-Defamation League, whose membership, he said Monday, was both proud and worried.
After all, in the succession of political firsts, every groundbreaking success story can be countered with a cautionary tale. And many of the most spectacular of these firsts, whether John F. Kennedy’s Catholicism or Geraldine Ferraro’s gender or Jesse Jackson’s race — all cited Monday as analogous to Lieberman’s candidacy — brought elements of pain and pride to the campaign trail.
Even in the heavily Jewish neighborhood of Westville in New Haven, where Lieberman lives and where his political life was born, his friends and neighbors acknowledged that a Jewish candidacy might be a challenge.
“People here grew up with us, live near us, work with us. They know we’re good people. They know we don’t have horns,” said Jesse Fink, who oversees the kosher preparation at Westville Market. “I don’t think that’s the case in a lot of parts of this country.”
In fact, Lieberman’s religion was partially why he never seemed the front-runner for the Democratic vice presidential candidacy. His Judaism, as well as his lack of national exposure and representation of a state with little political wallop, pundits said, were liabilities.
Political analyst Ross Baker, a professor at Rutgers University, called Lieberman’s selection “an electrifying decision on the part of Gore.”
But he said that, regardless of the public statements by the candidates, the move was a risky one, too.
Anti-Semitism, Baker said, is not overt in today’s electorate, but it does linger in many voters’ minds. Confronting it is not something he expected from a cautious candidate.
“Politicians are conservative; they want to minimize their risks. I knew at some point somebody would risk it. I just didn’t think it was going to happen now.”
Neither did many of Lieberman’s most ardent supporters in Westville. When the telephone chain spread the news Monday, it startled almost everyone.
“It was such a big chance for Gore to take, I never thought it would happen,” said Joan Weinstock, who worked the register at the Westville Kosher Bakery, the culinary heart of the neighborhood. But Weinstock’s disbelief, like that of her neighbors and friends, gave way to a walking-on-air feeling.
So proud was the Westville Jewish community that Sydney Perry, who runs the Jewish Community Center of New Haven nearby, briefly considered hanging a “Way To Go Joe” banner from the rafters. “I know we’re not supposed to choose political sides,” she said of the center. “But c’mon, Joe’s ours.”
It was a gloat repeated at the luncheon tables at Katz’s Restaurant and Deli, in the aisles of the Westville Market and over matzoh ball soup at the bakery.
They are places where Lieberman and his family shop, filled with people who have known Lieberman for years and walk to the same synagogue on the Sabbath. For them, Monday’s news was more than a hometown-boy-makes-good story.
“He’s showing everybody that you don’t have to compromise your religious observance to succeed,” Perry said.
By most accounts, Lieberman has confronted little resistance to his religion in his political ascension in Connecticut. When he launched his political career, in a post partially representing Westville, his religion was a considerable asset.
“It helped him in the beginning, and then it never became an issue again,” said New Haven’s longtime political operative, Leon Medvedow.
Medvedow recalled that the only mention of Lieberman’s religious background in a political context came when the Democrats’ annual Friday night convention conflicted with Lieberman’s observance of the Sabbath.
The Democrats have since adjusted the nomination schedule so that their senator could accept nominations in person.
Perhaps it is that Connecticut experience that shapes Lieberman’s own assessment of the national attitude toward a Jewish candidate.
On Friday, he said he thought his religion would make no difference to a “remarkably open and tolerant” American people. Gore’s camp, too, is downplaying the significance of this first.
But Fink, the Kosher supervisor, said he hopes that Lieberman is prepared for the extra burden he will carry. “If he makes any misstep, people are going to say it’s because he’s Jewish.”
Then again, Fink said, the Lieberman candidacy might open an avenue he thought was currently closed. He said he now believes he might live to see a Jewish president.
“And that’s not something I would have said yesterday,” Fink said.
