Mother Jones
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Sometime in the late 1970s, after he’d had a kid, divorced his college sweetheart, lost four elections for statewide offices, and been evicted from his home on Maple Street in Burlington, Vermont, Bernie Sanders moved in with a friend named Richard Sugarman. Sanders, a restless political activist and armchair psychologist with a penchant for arguing his theories late into the night, found a sounding board in the young scholar, who taught philosophy at the nearby University of Vermont. At the time, Sanders was struggling to square his revolutionary zeal with his overwhelming rejection at the polls—and this was reflected in a regular ritual. Many mornings, Sanders would greet his roommate with a simple statement: “We’re not crazy.”
“I’d say, ‘Bernard, maybe the first thing you should say is ‘Good morning’ or something,'” Sugarman recalls. “But he’d say, ‘We’re. Not. Crazy.'”
Sanders eventually got a place of his own, found his way, and in 1981 was elected mayor of Burlington, Vermont’s largest city—the start of an improbable political career that led him to Congress, and soon, he hopes, the White House. On Tuesday, after more than three decades as a self-described independent socialist, the septuagenarian senator launched his campaign for the Democratic presidential nomination in the Vermont city where this long, strange trip began. But it was during Sanders’ first turbulent decade in Vermont that he discovered it wasn’t enough to hold lofty ideas and wait for the world to fall in line; in the Green Mountains, he learned how to be a politician.
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