Why many voters in Sanders’ old Brooklyn neighborhood are backing Trump

BROOKLYN, N.Y. -- Senator Bernie Sanders of Vermont should not count on Reiza Tsinman's vote. Or Misha Lazarev's, for that matter.

Tsinman and Lazarev are Jewish immigrants from former Soviet bloc countries, and neighbors on the floor of the Brooklyn apartment building where Sanders, a self-described "democratic socialist," grew up. Neither is a Sanders fan.

"I lived under socialism, so I know what that is," said Tsinman, 81, who moved to the United States from the former Latvian Soviet Socialist Republic. Sanders is "talking about free healthcare and free education," Tsinman said. "Where is all that money coming from?"

Lazarev, a native of Bobruysk, Belarus, said that he plans to vote for Donald Trump if the Republican front-runner makes it to the general election.

"I like Trump. He's a builder, [and] Trump says what people want to hear," Lazarev, 75, said in an interview in his apartment. Sanders, Lazarev said, "can't win."

As Sanders battles former Secretary of State Hillary Clinton for the Democratic presidential nomination, his focus on income inequality and campaign finance reform has attracted a devoted following among liberal primary voters across the country.

But here on Sanders' childhood turf in the Midwood section of Brooklyn, voters seem skeptical and dismissive of the senator, despite sharing a similar cultural background and upbringing.

Bernie Sanders grew up in this apartment in the Midwood section of Brooklyn. Photo by Daniel Bush Bernie Sanders grew up in this apartment in the Midwood section of Brooklyn. Photo by Daniel Bush

Sanders, who is Jewish, and his brother Larry, were raised by their mother and Polish-born father in a small apartment on the second floor of 1525 E. 26th St. When Sanders was born in 1941, the brick, six-story building was filled mostly with first and second-generation immigrant Jewish families from Eastern Europe, census records show.

Now, 74 years later, the building, with its faded marble floors and beige stucco walls, is still home to a mix of immigrants from the former Soviet Union, along with a growing number of Hispanic families.

An ad posted by a local handyman inside the front entrance reminds tenants to call for help on the Sabbath, when observant Jews are prohibited from doing work.

The market-rate rent for Lazarev's one-bedroom apartment, which he shares with his wife, was roughly $1,300 per month, he said. Their unit, which is heavily subsidized through a federal Section 8 housing voucher, is likely similar in size to the apartment the Sanders family occupied across the hall.

At first glance, the building's tenants would seem to be natural allies for Sanders.

But while several residents in the neighborhood who were interviewed for this story shared Sanders' experience growing up in a lower-middle class family in post-World War II Brooklyn, they remain unmoved by his campaign.

In reality, Sanders is more popular with young, mostly white, non-native New Yorkers who live in Brooklyn's toniest enclaves than he is in neighborhoods like Midwood. Sanders has said his childhood was relatively happy, despite the fact that money was tight. He was a solid student and excelled at sports, starring in track and long-distance running at James Madison High School. (The school's list of famous alumni includes Supreme Court Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg, Senator Chuck Schumer of New York and Judge Judy.)

Upon graduating in 1959, Sanders enrolled at Brooklyn College and later transferred to the University of Chicago after his mother died at 46. He eventually moved to Vermont, where he started a political career that has been marked by a sharp focus on socioeconomic disparities.

But now that Sanders is running for president, his base of support in Brooklyn -- which has more than 10 percent of the state's registered Democratic voters -- is concentrated outside of Midwood, in wealthier, more liberal and less religious communities that have undergone rapid gentrification in recent years.

Brooklyn's modern-day political geography is an awkward fit for Sanders, 74, who often touts his humble outer borough roots on the campaign trail.

In reality, Sanders is more popular with young, mostly white, non-native New Yorkers who live in Brooklyn's toniest enclaves than he is in neighborhoods like Midwood.

"There's always a time and place for everything," Paul Feder, 60, who grew up in Midwood, said of Sanders. But now, in 2016, Feder said, "We need to move to the right [as a country]."

Feder runs a computer store in the neighborhood. He said that he's a registered Democrat, but votes for Republican presidential candidates. If Sanders won the Democratic nomination, Feder said in an interview outside of the neighborhood public library, he would vote for Trump or Senator Marco Rubio of Florida.

Liberal voters in some parts of Brooklyn might admire Sanders, but in his neighborhood, people "look at it differently," Feder said.

Not everyone is adamantly opposed. Michael Gonzalez, a 23-year-old bike messenger, is undecided, but considering voting for Sanders.

Sanders, he says, "believes in causes" and understands the issues, and he likes that.

"I lived under socialism, so I know what that is." Meanwhile, at a bagel shop on Kings Highway in Midwood, Jody Weiss, 62, took a break from her toasted everything bagel with cream cheese to explain why she isn't supporting Sanders.

"I like the fact that he's a Brooklyn boy," said Weiss. "But the thing that scares me with Sanders is I heard he's got a crazy plan to raise taxes."

Weiss, who said that she was retired, voted for President Obama in 2012. She said she wants to vote for Trump this year if he becomes the Republican Party's standard-bearer. "He's got the balls to say what he wants to say."

Weiss and other Jewish voters living in Midwood were also wary about the issue of Sanders' religion.

Sanders hasn't focused on his Jewish faith on the campaign trail. But earlier this month, when he won the New Hampshire Democratic primary, Sanders became the first Jewish presidential candidate to win a primary, touching off a debate about Judaism and politics that will only grow as the election moves forward.

"So far I haven't seen any [anti-Semitism] towards Sanders, but it'll come up eventually," said Feder, who is Jewish. "In general, people don't like Jewish politicians. If something goes wrong, they blame the Jews."

Weiss admitted that it would be important for her to see a Jewish president in her lifetime, even if it was someone like Sanders who she doesn't fully support. "It's about time," Weiss said.

Back in Sanders' old building, Tsinman insisted that he couldn't take her vote for granted on the basis of their shared religion.

"I know he's Jewish. But he's a socialist," Tsinman said. "Religion doesn't matter. It comes down to what someone is proposing."

Sanders keeps his Judaism in the background, irking U.S. Jews

BY RACHEL ZOLL AND JOSEF FEDERMAN,

February 29, 2016 at 1:33 PM EST

U.S. Democratic presidential candidate Sen. Bernie Sanders (I-VT) (L) prays with Jerry Falwell Jr., (right) president of Liberty University before delivering and address to Liberty University students in Lynchburg, Virginia, September 14, 2015. Photo by Jay Paul/Reuters Sen. Bernie Sanders prays with Jerry Falwell Jr., president of Liberty University, before delivering an address to Liberty University students in Lynchburg, Virginia, in September. Photo by Jay Paul/Reuters

NEW YORK -- As Bernie Sanders headed toward victory in New Hampshire, pundits noted the barrier he was about to break: Sanders would become the first Jewish candidate to win a major party presidential primary. But since that Feb. 9 win, instead of the burst of communal pride that often accompanies such milestones, the response from American Jews has been muted. One reason: The Vermont senator, the candidate who has come closer than any other Jew to being a Democratic or Republican presidential nominee, has mostly avoided discussing his Judaism.

READ MORE: Why many voters in Sanders' old Brooklyn neighborhood are backing Trump

Sanders has baffled Jews by refusing to name the Israeli kibbutz where he briefly volunteered in the 1960s, sending reporters scrambling to solve the mystery. When they found the kibbutz, he wouldn't comment.

In New Hampshire after his breakout win, he described himself as "the son of a Polish immigrant," not a Jewish one. At a Democratic debate, he spoke of the historic nature of "somebody with my background" seeking the presidency, but didn't use the word "Jewish." A recent headline in the liberal Jewish Daily Forward newspaper read, "We Need To Out Bernie Sanders as a Jew -- For His Own Good."

Rabbi James Glazier of Temple Sinai n South Burlington, Vermont, said Sanders' comments were being discussed by rabbis in the liberal Reform movement. "What did he leave out there? He didn't say 'Jewish Polish' immigrant. Reform rabbis have picked up on this big time."

Sanders' lack of religious observance is not what rankles. It has become so common for Jews to identify "culturally" instead of religiously with the faith that the Pew Research Center, in its most recent study of the American Jewish population, used a category called "Jews of no religion."

Michael Bloomberg, the former New York mayor, also is not religious, but he was embraced for his unwavering support of Israel and his generous donations to Jewish causes. Louis Brandeis, who in 1916 became the first Jewish justice on the U.S. Supreme Court, did not practice his faith, yet he was the pride of American Jews. Brandeis went on to become a leading U.S. advocate for Zionism.

But Sanders, during more than three decades in public life as a mayor, congressman and U.S. senator, has developed few relationships with Jewish groups or leaders -- on religious issues or on Israel. He has supported a two-state solution to the Israeli-Palestinian conflict but has not made Israel in any way a priority.

"I would say that he has never been one of those in Congress who was active in a Jewish caucus, who turned out for Israel, who was involved in those issues -- and he still isn't," said Jonathan Sarna, an expert in American Jewish history at Brandeis University.

Ironically, when Sanders gave his most religiously focused campaign speech, he only seemed to underscore his distance from Judaism. It was last fall at Liberty University, the evangelical school founded by the Rev. Jerry Falwell in Lynchburg, Virginia, and he addressed the school on Rosh Hashana, the Jewish New Year, one of the most important holidays of the year.

Discussing his beliefs in the speech, he said he was "motivated by a vision" for social justice "which exists in all of the great religions." But Sanders didn't say he was Jewish. Later, he did stop in at a Rosh Hashana gathering at the home of the Lynchburg mayor.

The Sanders campaign did not respond to repeated requests for comment for this article.

Stanley "Huck" Gutman, former chief of staff in Sanders' Senate office, wrote in an email, "He is an old friend, a close friend -- but we have very seldom, if ever, discussed religion."

Sanders' life follows a familiar arc in 20th century American Jewish experience: The son of an immigrant, he grew up in the shadow of the Holocaust, which Sanders has said wiped out much of his father's family. As a child in Brooklyn, Sanders went to Hebrew school and had a bar mitzvah, but the lessons he drew from the teachings seem closer to a golden rule morality than specifically Jewish.

In the presidential race, he often sums up his religious views with the phrase, "We are in this together."

"Being Jewish is very important to us," his brother, Larry, said in an interview in England where he lives. "There was no problem of debate, it was just a given in our lives, just as being Americans was a given in our lives. But Bernard is not particularly religious. He doesn't go to synagogue often. I think he probably goes to synagogue only for weddings and funerals, rather than to pray."

Like many young American Jews in the 1960s, Sanders volunteered on a kibbutz, which news organizations discovered to be Sha'ar Ha'amakim in northern Israel. Irit Drori, who now lives on the kibbutz, said no one there remembers the presidential candidate and self-described democratic socialist.

"It was a socialist kibbutz," Drori said. "If Mr. Sanders was interested in socialism, he could find people to talk about it with here."

After moving to Vermont in the late 1960s, he eventually began his political career. But setting down roots did not mean joining a synagogue, though he sometimes would visit them. Rabbi Glazier said Sanders had been to Temple Sinai once -- for a candidates' event. The Chabad-Lubavitch Hasidic community in Burlington said Sanders, as mayor, helped them overcome opposition to erecting a Hanukkah menorah on public land.

In 1988, he married his second wife, Jane, who was raised Roman Catholic, just as the national intermarriage rate was climbing so high that Jewish leaders began calling it a crisis.

In Vermont, where nearly 40 percent of residents say they have no particular religion, Sanders was rarely called on to discuss his faith. However, in the last couple of years, he has been facing increasing challenges about his support for Israel.

In a widely viewed video of a 2014 Vermont town hall event, after the war started between Israel and Hamas, the Islamic militant group that controls Gaza, some voters demanded Sanders do more to protest Israeli bombing. The war killed more than 2,200 Palestinians in Gaza, including hundreds of civilians, and 73 people on the Israeli side. Sanders was among a small number of senators who didn't co-sponsor a resolution supporting Israel in the conflict, which passed by voice vote.

Sanders said Israel "overreacted" with the intensity of its attacks, and he called the bombing of U.N. schools "terribly, terribly wrong." But he also criticized Hamas for launching rockets into Israel. Israel has said Hamas is responsible for civilian casualties, since it carried out numerous attacks from residential areas in Gaza.

"I believe in a two-state solution, where Israel has the right to exist in security at the same time the Palestinians have a state of their own," Sanders said.

Last year, Sanders was the first of several senators who announced they would skip Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu's address to Congress. President Barack Obama hadn't been consulted, he said, and the speech was too close to the Israeli elections, giving the appearance the U.S. was trying to influence the outcome.

As a presidential candidate, Sanders said he consulted the dovish pro-Israel lobby J Street and the Arab American Institute, founded by Jim Zogby, on Mideast Policy.

"That's not exactly a balanced view of the region," said Malcolm Hoenlein, the executive vice chairman of the Conference of Presidents of Major American Jewish Organizations, which has not accepted J Street as a member. "I hope he has other advisers or will take other advisers. He's never really been that identified that strongly with pro-Israel advocacy."

While Jews mull the source of Sanders' reticence about discussing his Jewish roots, they are relieved that a Jewish candidate can run without prompting an outpouring of anti-Semitism. Still, they worry that could change if he succeeds in the primaries ahead. Sanders did offer a rare comment on his heritage last week on MSNBC's "Hardball," saying, "I'm very proud to be Jewish." Sarna, of Brandeis, said the candidate's religious identity is clear even if he doesn't talk much about it.

"I think it is very much a statement about America that someone who everybody knows is of Jewish background and has a Jewish name and sounds Jewish from Brooklyn can get several delegates," Sarna said. "There is a sense that only in America could a Bernie Sanders be a candidate."

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