The Blog

Girl on the Bus

...and the Trolley, and the Subway, and the T.

12:00 AM, Jul 27, 2004 • By KATHERINE MANGU-WARD
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THE LYONDON LAROUCHE SINGERS. The very words strike fear in the hearts of
all but the bravest men. And there they were, looming above me,
large-as-life when I boarded the green line train on my way to the Fleet
Center first thing this morning.

When I climb aboard they are doing a doom and gloom choral number, the
sort of thing you hear on more hellfire-oriented Sundays at church. But it
isn't until they launch into the second song of their set, a lighthearted
round, that I realize they aren't just humming a happy tune, they've added
lyrics. Or, more precisely, one lyric--it is the name of their candidate,
the perennial long-shot "Democratic" presidential hopeful. "LA-Rouche,
LA-Rouche," they intone, with the finest a cappella harmonies at their

One of the scruffy songbirds is balancing a hand-drawn placard on his
knee. It reads, "WHO is the MOST SUCCESSFUL economic forecaster?" The answer
is provided by his dreadlocked neighbor. He is holding a "LaRouche 2004"
poster in two hands and jiggling it with such vigor he looks as if he were
born for the task. Other members of the barbershop sextet carry copies of
the latest edition of "Children of Satan" (it's Part III, for those who have
been following the series). When the train unexpectedly stops at Government
Center and disgorges us, the LaRouchies remain completely unfazed--they
continue singing, segueing gracefully into a version of "In the Still of the

her cool: "No! No! No! Kerry people stay in the train!" shouts the freckled
woman with a roll of "Kerry-Edwards" stickers in one hand and a stack of
signs in the other. She sports a badge that proclaims her exalted status as
"Campaign Intern." She is the mistress of a large group of apron-wearing
people displaying the slightly-less-coveted "Volunteer" stickers. The object
of her wrath is a young man with slicked-back dark hair and a Kerry bumper
sticker in hand. Apparently unaware that the young man is merely the
recipient of a handout from one of her (perhaps overzealous) volunteers, she
thinks he is an escapee member of her team, or possibly fears that his exit
will cause a stampede. She makes a move to bound after him, but is
restrained in the nick of time. The consequences could have been dire--being
attacked by a crazed Kerry intern isn't likely to have won a committed voter
for the Kerry-Edwards ticket, and would have made an excellent human
interest story from the half-dozen bored reporters who were likely in the

On the more civilized red line, a red-haired woman in a flowing red dress
is doing her best to avoid being pestered by the weirdos on the train, and
after two days in Boston I'm beginning to think she has the right idea. She
is carrying one of those satchels woven by impoverished Guatemalan women. On
the bag she has fastened a red button which proclaims, "I do not consent to
a search" to anyone who might be pondering such a course of action. I
consider striking up a chat, but she is intent on an anthology of feminist
literature. Besides, I assume it's possible that somewhere about her person
there is an "I do not consent to a conversation" button, and I wouldn't want
to offend.

Katherine Mangu-Ward is a reporter for the Weekly Standard.