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As Pa. primary looms, true believers are among us

John Lazarz and Kim Segal were combing through mountains of voter canvassing data at the Bernie Sanders field office near Temple University on Monday when an unexpected predicament arose.

Kathryn Hiester (left) stopped by Bernie Sanders' field office at 10th and Diamond for more signs and bumper stickers. Michele Longenderfer (right) makes phone calls at Hillary Clinton's headquarters on the 15th floor of 1801 Market St.
Kathryn Hiester (left) stopped by Bernie Sanders' field office at 10th and Diamond for more signs and bumper stickers. Michele Longenderfer (right) makes phone calls at Hillary Clinton's headquarters on the 15th floor of 1801 Market St.Read moreMIKE NEWALL, Staff / ELIZABETH ROBERTSON, Staff Photographer

John Lazarz and Kim Segal were combing through mountains of voter canvassing data at the Bernie Sanders field office near Temple University on Monday when an unexpected predicament arose.

"Oh, the stitching in my jeans just ripped out again," said Lazarz, 24, of western Massachusetts, after bending to pick up another stack.

These were his nice jeans. The ones he'd worn while door-knocking for Sanders through four states and was wearing now as a Sanders organizer in Philadelphia. He had originally ripped them when a nail caught the seat of his pants while he was working voter registration at a Kingfisher concert at Girard Hall.

"Did it really?" asked Kim Segal, a 20-year-old Temple junior. "I'll bring back my sewing kit."

Life in the Bubble of Bern.

For so long now, we have been watching this presidential campaign from afar. But Pennsylvania's April 26 primary is fast approaching, and the state's 188 delegates are critical.

The true believers are among us now. (Some of them anyway. Sanders and Hillary Clinton have Philly campaign offices; Donald Trump and Ted Cruz do not.)

They have come from as far away as the prairies of Iowa and the hamlets of Maine, and as near as the streets of Philadelphia. In the weeks ahead, they will be calling you, knocking at your door.

Here is Kathryn Hiester, a 49-year-old mother of three from University City, who Feels the Bern so badly, she says feels like a teenager again.

"I've skipped haircuts to give to Bernie," she said, stopping by for more bumper stickers.

The Sanders office - one of five that opened in the city in the last month, including ones in West and South Philly - is housed in a repurposed yoga studio. The worn wooden furniture would not be out of place in a Vermont cabin. Updike and Pynchon novels line the bookshelves.

On a wall, a poster poses the question: What does Bernie mean to you?

"Compassion and love. A genuinely nice candidate. Something to believe," read the answers.

While the magic-marker musings may echo the pie-in-the-sky sentiments of the campaign, Lazarz represents the type of foot soldier who has powered the campaign.

After the Maine caucus last month, he and other volunteers decided (via gchat) on Philly as their next stop.

"We wanted to go someplace where we could be a force multiplier," he said. "Where we just really exponentially strengthen the regional campaign."

He is staying with other volunteers at the Port Richmond home of a Bernie supporter - a "Bernie B&B," he said.

Downtown, at Clinton's Philadelphia campaign office, which opened last week, volunteers worked the phones, urging people to turn out for upcoming events.

Clinton headquarters inhabits the 15th floor of 1801 Market St., the type of digs befitting a former first lady and secretary of state - the most capable and practical candidate, or the candidate of the establishment and Wall Street, depending on how you see it.

On the wall, a poster reads: "I'm with Her because . . ."

The answers come not in buzzwords but in sentences.

"I remember when the ERA was defeated in '82 and I'm done with that..." says one, punctuated with a word unprintable in a family newspaper.

While the digs are different from Sanders' dorm-style headquarters, the passion's the same.

Meet Tierra Ward, 26, who left her community-service job in Memphis and postponed law school for a year to volunteer.

"When you quit your job and postpone all your plans in life, it's something that is very important," she said.

And there's Carol Venditto, 58, who lives in Roxborough with her wife of two years and came straight from the Phillies' home opener loss, knowing a few hours of data entry for Hillary would replenish her soul.

"If Hillary walked in the room, I would drop," she said. "It would be just like when I met Bonnie Raitt."

Then she clasped her hands as if in prayer, as if willing on her beloved Phillies in the late innings - or her candidate through another primary.

"Oh, she would do such a good job," she said.

It was, of course, the same type of unshakable belief shared by John, who went back to work, ripped jeans and all.

mnewall@phillynews.com

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