Opinion

Searching for ‘Undecided’ in Ohio

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Rick Robinson
Author, Writ of Mandamus
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      Rick Robinson

      Rick Robinson has spent thirty years in politics and law, including a stint on Capitol Hill as Legislative Director/Chief Counsel to then-Congressman Jim Bunning (R-KY). He has been active in all levels of politics, from advising candidates on the national level to walking door-to-door in city council races. He ran for the United States Congress in 1998.

      Rick’s first book, The Maximum Contribution, was named a “Finalist” in the 2008 Next Generation Indie Books Awards in the genre of political fiction. It also won an Honorable Mention at the 2008 Hollywood Book Festival. Sniper Bid, was released on Election Day 2009 and opened on Amazon’s Top Seller list at #46 of political fiction. Sniper Bid earned 5 national awards: Finalist USA Book News Best Books of 2009; Finalist Best Indie Novel Next Generation Indie Books Awards; Runner-up at the 2009 Nashville Book Festival; Honorable Mentions at the 2008 New England Book Festival and the 2009 Hollywood Book Festival. Throughout 2009 both books appeared on Amazon’s Top Seller List on the same day.

      Rick’s third offering, Manifest Destiny, was released in the spring of 2010. It was named Best Fiction at the Paris Book Festival, a Finalist for Best Fiction in the Next Generation Indie Book Awards, Best Fiction at the New York Book Festival, a Finalist as Best Thriller in the Indie Excellence Awards, and won Honorable mention in the Beach Book Festival, the Hollywood Book Festival and the San Francisco Book Festival.

      A graduate of Eastern Kentucky University and Salmon P. Chase College of Law, Rick currently practices law in Ft. Mitchell, Kentucky with the law firm of Graydon Head & Ritchey LLP. Rick, and his wife Linda, live in Ft. Mitchell with their three children, Josh, Zach and MacKenzie.

Last week, business took me to two bordering states with drastically different perspectives on the upcoming presidential election. The contrast was stark.

One day I was in Lexington, the second-largest city in Kentucky — a state President Obama nearly lost in the 2012 Democratic primary to “Undecided.” The very next day, I found myself in Columbus, Ohio — ground zero for the Obama-Romney battle.

In Lexington, I was hard-pressed to find any evidence that a national campaign was underway. The only campaign ads on television and the radio were those being placed nationally. The rumor is that, in order to suppress the Romney margin in Kentucky, Democrats are planning a last-minute ad blitz warning about rabid dogs roaming the streets around polling places.

In Columbus, I could not turn on the television or radio without a campaign ad screaming at me to vote. Candidates and their surrogates were seemingly at any event listed in the community calendar of the local newspaper. I stopped to get gas at a small service station south of Columbus and Joe Biden came out and checked my tire pressure.

After viewing the constant barrage of messages in Ohio, it was hard to imagine anyone actually being undecided.

Who is undecided?

In order to help locate the elusive undecided voter, I first contacted John Zogby, senior analyst with JZ Analytics. John Zogby has been running numbers for campaigns for nearly 30 years. He knows his stuff.

Zogby has just released a poll regarding the race in Ohio. According to Zogby’s poll, the 11% of undecided voters in Ohio are generally white independents, under 40, who make less than $75,000 annually. There are more females in the undecided ranks than males.

Many people hate polls. “The only real poll is on Election Day,” they grumble. However, as I found with Zogby’s numbers, polls can be remarkably accurate.

Zogby’s numbers indicate that the largest concentration of undecided voters in Ohio is in Cincinnati. That seemed to be a good place to start my quest. So, for a day, I accompanied Mike Tobin and his Fox News team as they wandered the streets of the Queen City looking for undecided voters.

I watched as they worked the crowd at a downtown job fair. I ate the “World’s Greatest Reuben” while they talked to the lunch crowd at Izzy’s Deli. I strolled around the social center of town as they looked for undecided voters in Fountain Square.

Remarkably, as Zogby’s poll predicted, it was hard to find an undecided voter who was not a young, white, working-class female.

As I listened to those being interviewed discuss what will move them to a final decision, a thought crept into my head.