A small tavern called KCD’s, with its glass block façade, is no more than a five-minute walk from either end of the vacant main strip. Inside the dimly lit bar, the knotty pine paneled walls are adorned with Vikings apparel, most likely because the Minnesota border is almost in spitting distance. In a timeworn town, it was no surprise that the clientele of KCD’s were in their later years. The three women sitting at the end of the bar looked as if they belonged at Sunday church; yet, they were ordering cherry bombs and drinking Bud Lites. The bartender, Vickie Ator, 61, was referenced as “mom,” as if the ladies had known one another their entire lives.

The three engaged in casual conversation, jokingly bad mouthing each other with years of friendship behind the stories. Elsbeth Richter, 93, sipped on a Bud.

“My vote don’t count anymore,” said Richter, who stayed home on election day. Ator, listening, interjects: “If you didn’t vote, you can’t b-tch!” She voted for Donald Trump after 40 years of choosing Democrats.

At the other end of the bar, Brian Jessen, 41, sips on a rum and coke as he watches the Vikings/Cardinals game. In a town where Trump was the victor, Jessen not only voted for Bernie Sanders in the primary but also wrote his name in the general election.

“Bernie had held to his principles during his many years of service,” said Jessen. “I voted for Bernie for that reason and in the process accidentally helped Trump.”

In this bar, anti-establishment fever reigns. Whether it’s a write-in for Bernie or a flip for Trump – or in the case of the elderly women at the end of the bar, no vote at all – people in this town and place don’t trust government, don’t trust politicians, don’t like the media and just plain out hate Clinton.

“She’s a liar, they caught her lies, everybody lies. She’s just evil,” said Ator.

As a result of the dire economic conditions of this area, where years ago there was a movie theater and John Deere plant but today there’s little more than Vicki’s bar, people were longing for change. Lime Springs is not alone; it’s a few counties over from the Mississippi River Valley, and it’s located in a county that flipped for Donald Trump by the largest percentage in the country (42%), according to CNBC’s map of counties that flipped. This county is part of a region around the river that stands out because of the number of clustered counties that switched allegiances to the billionaire from New York, funneling their economic hopes into his outside, anti-establishment character. Even people like Jessen who voted for Bernie are part of the final story of what cost Hillary Clinton the White House; she could not overcome the dual phenomenon of Trump flippers and lack of enthusiasm from people who went third party, wrote someone in or sat out, but slightly preferred Clinton over Trump.

“People are getting tired of working; you know, what used to be a 40-hour week and now it takes 60-80 hours a week,” said Lime Springs Mayor Kevin Bill, who works on an 800-acre farm and used to own a bar/restaurant. As with many people in these towns, he holds positions in civic life (he’s also on the airport commission), which seems incongruent with the hatred for government.

“There is a lot people who are just too lazy to go get a job, it’s easier to sit at home and collect a paycheck.”

The Switcher

Over her five decades, Ator, who was born and raised in Lime Springs, has watched its steady decline. Ator has owned KCD’s tavern for nine years. She is the daughter of a farmer who was also a gas station owner. She said the town has changed drastically from the days she spent working with her father.

“This used to be a booming​ ​town​ ​to​ ​grow​ ​up​ ​in. You couldn’t find a place to park in Lime Springs because it was so busy and wild,” said Ator.

Almost 45 years ago, there was a John Deere equipment store that brought jobs to the now decaying town. Ator was reminiscing about an era when jobs were abundant, a time when even a small town of 500 such as Lime Springs had a movie theater. Back in the day, Ator was not only a farmer, but also a welder. While she did attend a university, she dropped out after two years.

“Nobody liked Hillary so they went to Trump,” said Ator.

Ator did not decide between the two parties, but between the two candidates. In the primaries, she voted for Bernie Sanders, leaving her vote to sway towards Trump when Clinton was chosen to represent for the Democrats. She deviated from her dad and nephew and voted for Trump.

“She’s a liar. It was just her,” said Ator.

Something that stood out in this election, much like this town, was that she was not looking for a politician. She emphasized that was something everyone wanted; change. There are not a lot of jobs in town and the entrepreneur, Donald Trump, promised security and growth to small towns like Lime Springs. It wasn’t that Ator didn’t want a female president, she isn’t bothered by a female president, but she is not going to vote for Hillary “just because she is a female. “

“Just like how can I be called a racist for voting for Trump when I voted for Obama?” said Ator.

Ator says that she is hopeful that Trump changes everything.

Lime Springs was named after a spring that continues to produce fresh water today. Historically, most of the jobs in town are related to agriculture. The historical site of the Lidtke Mill is known for its buckwheat flour that used to provide 100 barrels of flour a day. Besides being known for agriculture, Welsh heritage is deeply seeded in the community in an otherwise Norwegian and German dominated region.

“There has not been any significant growth in Howard County at all,” said Mayor Bill.

Howard County’s population estimates 9,410 in 2015. The unemployment rate has declined since Obama’s two terms in office, yet Howard County has one of the lowest weekly wages in the entire state, averaging about $642 a week, according to the Bureau of Labor Statistics.  The Labor force is increasing as the wages are continuing to stay low.

“There’s work out there, it might not be a career, but there’s work out there,” said Mayor Bill.

The Bernie Write-In

Jessen, a husband and a father of two young daughters, moved to Lime Springs in hopes of raising his family in a small town. Fourteen days a month, Jessen is responsible for running the majority of data transferred through Southern Minnesota and Northern Iowa, including government, hospital, and cell phone communications. With a 75-hour work week, he is usually on call. When cities shut down in the middle of the night, it is Jessen’s duty to restore service. With long and odd hours, Jessen likes to find a place like KCD’s to decompress and let his personal thoughts run their distance.

Jessen was so passionate about Bernie Sanders that he became a delegate in the primary. He said it was the first time he was involved with a party.

“While many called him crazy, few recognized him as false,” said Jessen. “I really dislike that I had to be part of the problem, but I couldn’t vote for someone I didn’t trust.”

Jessen said his neighbors and quite a few of his friends voted for Trump. In order to avoid conflict, Jessen said that he feels he has to pretend he is a Trump supporter. He said that he is in the middle of moving to a new job where his soon-to-be co-workers are Trump supporters.

“I’m playing the freakin’ game with them to make sure that they are going to sign off on me being hired,” said Jessen. “I’m not going to pick a fight with people that have the ability to make or break my future going forward.”

While some parents keep their children out of the election, Jessen says he wanted his daughter to be informed and know exactly what was going on in the world. Jessen said that the outcome of the election was hardest for his daughter, Piper, whose best friend is from Mexico.

“My daughter woke up after the election and immediately started sobbing,” said Jessen. “Her whole world is her best friend.”

For Jessen, the outcome of the election was equally upsetting. He said that he thought Trump drained the swamp, but he filled it with crocodiles.

“To support somebody who so blatantly has disregard for so many things that I consider key to being a human being,” said Jessen. “I struggle with that.”

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“It is not in his (Trump) best interest to be president,” said Schmidt. “It’s in the country’s.”

At first, Schmidt seemed guarded and had a look of caution. It is not every day that three students from the city pass through Harmony, Minnesota inquiring about political opinions. Nonetheless, Schmidt’s eagerness to talk politics evaporated any sense of uneasiness. He was willing to hear them out, but more than anything, wanted his voice to be heard.

On the way into the small town of Harmony, the click clack of an Amish horse drawn carriage can be heard as it makes its way into town. The downtown strip is peppered with wooden hand carved statues that are Norwegian themed, yet, oddly resemble gnomes. Emanating from bar windows and storefronts are the colors blaze orange and viking-purple, symbolic of not only hunting season but also football Sunday.

The heart of the neighborhood is mostly still, though, some residents were out tidying their lawns in preparation for the impending Minnesota winter.  At the end of the block, an impressive red semi-truck sits out front of a corner house. Just above the shimmering steel grille of the truck, a sign reads, “Captain little.” Nearby, a row of several Trump signs guard the side of the home. This is where Schmidt lives.

What Schmidt had in common with other voters in the Mississippi River Valley is that he felt as though his voice was quelled by bought politicians and the media. Schmidt called for trusted media and said that this election had nurtured a sense of cynicism towards mainstream news that quickly spread across this region.

“You need to go to small places,” said Schmidt. “The media ran this election.”

Moreover, many counties along the Mississippi river valley have the lowest weekly wages in their state, respectively. The average weekly wage in Fillmore County is $649, according to the Bureau of Labor Statistics. Unemployment in Fillmore County peaked at nine percent in 2009 but has dropped to three percent by 2016, according to the Federal Reserve Bank of St. Louis. The unemployment rate stats of Fillmore county seem to indicate that there is an increase in jobs. However, this doesn’t necessarily mean that the jobs available offer a living wage. Between the cost of housing, living and food, $649 a week is not a livable wage, especially for a family. This fact is perhaps the reason why Trump’s jobs rhetoric appealed to so many people in the Mississippi River Valley.

In 2012, Minnesota became the first state outside of the South to vote Democratic in 10 straight presidential elections, according to Smart Politics. The same year, Fillmore County, which includes the town of Harmony, went blue by about 7.3 percent. What is even more intriguing is that in 2016, Fillmore County went red by more than 21 percent. This county as well as many other counties in rural Minnesota followed this trend, often flipping by more than 10 percent. For this reason, it is no surprise that  Trump only lost by a mere 1.5 percent in Minnesota. Fillmore County, and other counties along the

The Biggest Little Town

With a population of just over 1,000, Harmony is predominantly a farming community. Corn, stock and small grain are the principle products raised here. Harmony bills itself as the “Biggest Little Town” in the southeastern corner of Minnesota. Besides local farming, the town features the largest Amish community in the state. A small tourism industry pertaining to the Amish culture has developed here. In addition to the businesses the Amish themselves run, visitors to the area are catered to by tour companies which visit Amish farms and merchants and provide information on the community and Amish way of life.

Schmidt’s garage was your average man cave containing a workbench, wooden pegboards stocked with tools, and even a red multi-level toolbox on wheels. His son was sitting close by keeping quiet, yet, listening to his father intently. Schmidt has been a conservative ever since he could remember. Schmidt drove his semi for six years before attending an 18-week college course. Over the last decade. Schmidt has driven his rig through 40 states. He said he was happy with the outcome of the election but not with how the other side took it. Within the last year, he has been held up in traffic by Black Lives Matter highway protesters.

“Wanna make a movement?” said Schmidt. “Do it. Don’t block the highway.”

Schmidt mentioned that he had written a letter to the editor of the Fillmore County Journal about Minnesota House Representative, Greg Davids. In the letter, Schmidt talked about how he felt that Davids destroyed the homestead credit, and how Schmidt supported him despite the “tire plant debacle.” More information on the tire plant can be found here as well as an opinion piece here. Schmidt said the reason he supported Greg Davids is because he is against the immigration of unvetted refugees to the country as well as the state. Nevertheless, Schmidt felt that even though he wrote Davids, his voice would not be heard by those in office.

“I’ll probably never hear back from him,” said Schmidt. “While I’m a proud American today, I’m ashamed of my home state.”

Schmidt said he voted for Trump as a business man, not a person. He said he was eager for president-elect Donald Trump to take office.

“All you can say is give him four years,” said Schmidt.

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