Generation green - youth fight for planet - Brief Article

Sierra, Nov, 2000 by Heather Millar

Kelly McSherry, 21, a campaign coordinator who works on public relations, explains the operation. On the floor, and at the few steel desks against the walls, field managers work over maps with multicolored markers, shading the routes that their canvass crews will cover today. Across the room, new hires are learning the pitch that each of them will make about four dozen times each day. Gradually, they begin to "play doors," role-playing different situations that may come up when they're ringing doorbells later.

Meanwhile, Naomi and her three campaign directors interview applicants, plow through paperwork, obtain town permits, and plan a staff retreat. Most of the managers come in at 8:30 A.M. and don't leave until 11 P.M. They party for a few hours with the canvassers, then get up and do it all over again.

"The hours are long, but the people are great," says Kelly, who'll be a senior at the College of Saint Benedict in St. Joseph, Minnesota, in the fall. "Plus it's a great opportunity to work for something you believe in, instead of waitressing." For most of the canvassers in the room, this is their first experience with political organizing. Most are college students who found out about the campaign from friends or from help-wanted ads in campus newspapers.

"Sometimes people call you an eco-Nazi," admits Nick Berning, 21, a field manager and political-science student at Macalester College in St. Paul. "But you get this great feeling," Arshad Hasan, a 19-year-old student at the University of Pennsylvania, says of recruiting new members. "Today, I made a difference. Today, I talked to people. Today, they got involved."

At 2 P.M., Naomi turns off the stereo. It's time for announcements, a briefing on current political events that affect their efforts, and news from other Fund operations nationwide. Many canvassers say it's the highlight of the day. "Welcome to Thursday!" Naomi yells. The circle of about 40 canvassers and supervisors erupts like football fans at the Super Bowl. Naomi has the new people introduce themselves and exultantly reminds everyone that 50 new Sierra Club members were signed up the previous day. Then comes the main event: the announcement of "hot nights."

One of the field managers runs into the center of the circle and starts reading the names of last night's star canvassers, who collected the most donations or signed up the most new members: "Nick? $220! John! $220 and four new members! Arshad! Four members! Eleanor! $240 and four members!" Each runs around the circle for a victory lap as everyone else claps, whistles, and cheers.

Then we're out the door, and into the "Justice Mobile," a leased station wagon filled with Sierra Club flyers, postcards to the Forest Service, in-line skates, fast-food wrappers, and our crew, "the Fridley Five." Nick, our field manager, gives us a profile of our turf. Fridley is a middle-class suburb on the Mississippi River, just north of Minneapolis. The residents are receptive to environmental concerns; their congressional representative is good on the issues. The neighborhood is near a man-made lake and a high school. Trees arch over the streets and, as in many Midwestern towns, the lawns are enormous. No sidewalks connect the modest, ranch-style houses.