Rhonda Lee Welsch has a vision. “When we go back to Washington
next year, there’s going be a lot of Harleys,” the Florida
activist said. “And those Harleys make a lot of noise.”
Making noise may not seem like much of a goal to D.C.
political strategists, but if thousands of thundering Harleys
roll up in front of the White House as part of a national Tea
Party march on Washington, Welsch’s vision might make more impact
than Beltway wizards imagine.
Like many others now suddenly active in the conservative
grassroots, Welsch is a newcomer to politics. A divorced mom who
has spent most of her working career in the construction and
hospitality industries, she’s been an eyewitness to the
devastation wrought by the recent economic collapse. Florida’s
unemployment rate is at 11.2 percent, but that official statistic
may understate the severity of the downturn.
“Everything’s come to a screeching halt,” Welsch says of
construction work for small contractors in coastal Volusia
County, where she lives. With business slow, she began paying
more attention to politics, and soon found herself actively
involved in the Tea Party movement. A breakthrough moment, she
says, was when she joined the
9/12 March on D.C. and attended a seminar on organizing led
by veteran conservative fundraiser Richard Viguerie.
Welsch returned to Florida and went to work on her vision:
Bike Week Freedom
Rally, scheduled during late February’s annual motorcycle
gathering in Daytona Beach. She’s already booked the Volusia
County Fairgrounds for the event, hired a rock band for musical
entertainment, and is now in the process of raising more money
and arranging speakers.
At a Tea
Party last month in Orlando, Welsch handed out flyers
promoting the Daytona rally. She sees bikers as a constituency
instinctively opposed to big government. “Their motto is ‘Ride
Free, Live Free,’” she says, and getting them involved in the
political process could make a difference.
Her turn toward activism has brought some surprises. She
was shocked to discover that one TV personality wanted a $25,000
speaking fee plus first-class travel from New York to appear at
the Bike Week event. “What’s he going to do with that money?”
Welsch says skeptically.
Skepticism toward big-money big shots is natural to a
grassroots movement that sprang up nearly overnight in February
and mushroomed in the span of a few months to bring hundreds of
thousands to Washington in September. And one of the biggest big
shots feeling the grassroots heat is Florida Gov. Charlie
Crist.
In February, Crist
joined President Obama at a rally in Fort Myers, Fla., to
promote the president’s $789 billion economic stimulus plan. That
deficit-spending measure ranks high on the list of grievances for
fiscal-conservative Tea Party people like Welsch.
Three months after Crist’s embrace of Obama, howls of
outrage erupted when the National Republican Senatorial Committee
endorsed the governor for Florida’s 2010 Senate race, 15 months
ahead of the GOP primary. Erick Erickson of RedState.com
declared the NRSC endorsement “wholly unacceptable,” and the
backlash against the national GOP’s interference catapulted
Crist’s Senate rival, former state House Speaker Marco Rubio, to
the status of grassroots rock star.
Despite the fundraising advantages of being the
establishment’s choice, Crist has seen his poll numbers sag,
while
Rubio has surged. Crist was also recently hurt by revelations
about his close association with
Scott Rothstein, who is facing federal charges of defrauding
investors in what prosecutors say was a $1 billion Ponzi
scheme.
Asked her preference in the Senate primary, Welsch is
emphatic. “Rubio, definitely. No question about it,” she says.
She’s considered inviting him to speak at the Bike Week rally,
but worries about making the event “too political.”
Welsch’s own analysis of the contemporary political
landscape is not limited to narrow grievances or partisan
squabbles. “It’s a systemic problem,” she says, discussing the
top-down approach of leaders in both parties who seem indifferent
to the concerns of ordinary Americans.
Since becoming politically active, Welsch has discovered a
talent for organizing that suits what she calls her “tactile…
hands-on” nature. Previously a mere spectator in politics, her
participation limited to voting, she now regrets not becoming
involved sooner. “This is what I should have been doing all
along,” she says.
Welsch’s determination to make a difference recalls the
can-do spirit of active citizenship that Ronald Reagan celebrated
in his first inaugural address. “I do not believe in a fate that
will fall on us no matter what we do. I do believe in a fate that
will fall on us if we do nothing.”
Doing nothing is not an option for Rhonda Welsch anymore,
and she knows many others who feel the same way. “We need to form
a human chain — I just want to be one link in that
chain.”
Reagan was “our last true conservative president,” says
Welsch, who sees herself as part of a larger effort to revive
Reagan’s vision of freedom. And when those Harleys come roaring
up Pennsylvania Avenue next year, that vision will make a lot of
noise.
