THE little smile, hastily suppressed, said it all. Bernie Sanders is a grim, almost mirthless, figure. Yet a cry of “Bernie for president!”—echoing around Los Angeles’s docklands like a portent—caught the 76-year-old senator from Vermont off-guard. One moment his craggy face was glowering over the mistreatment of the local truckers, fleeced of job security and benefits; the next it had melted, like frost in spring, into a joyful smirk. Mr Sanders, the runner-up to Hillary Clinton in the 2016 Democratic primaries, still burns with ambition. But are Democrats still feeling it?
A recent day on Mr Sanders’s tail in southern California, where he fired up a trio of left-wing crowds, suggested many are. At a gathering of unionised workers at Disneyland, the “Happiest Place on Earth”, he raised cheers by angrily endorsing their demand for a $15-minimum hourly wage. (But he had bad news for their children: “Ducks don’t talk, mice really don’t talk,” said Mr Sanders, taking no prisoners....Continue reading
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