590 - Back to politics

Four years ago, back before his dad got sick and his brother was sent off to war, Beau Hicks' lawn was dotted with "Bush/Cheney" signs. Fit right in with his neighbors in rural Lewis County, 30 miles north of Hannibal.

Hicks was a "dyed in the wool" Republican. Committed. He campaigned for GOP candidates. He and his wife were members of the Republican county committee. Now Hicks' lawn sprouts "Obama/Biden" signs. The political transformation of this 28-year-old father of three is complicated and dramatic and, he knows, unusual here in northeast Missouri. Most of his neighbors support John McCain and Sarah Palin. He sees the roadside sign near his house asking, "How would Jesus vote?" As a faithful Baptist, Hicks understands the implied answer, even as he disagrees with it ("Wouldn't we like to know what Jesus would do," he says).

Still, he sees signs of slow change, that the election tally in this region could be less clear-cut than ones past.

He takes note of the other Obama/Biden signs as he drives home from his job in Hannibal or across the river to Quincy, Ill., where he reports the weekend weather on WGEM-TV. He sees the giant billboard on Highway 61 reading, "Had enough? Vote Democrat Nov. 4th." As director of Hannibal's convention and visitors bureau, he hears from merchants and townspeople who sound less assured of their GOP leanings.

"I think it's divided here," Hicks says, knowing that means something in a conservative region that voted for George W. Bush in 2000 and 2004 by wide margins.

Many voters seem to want a change — even in Republican strongholds like Lewis County. It is just a matter of defining exactly what that change should be. Is a new Republican candidate enough? Or will some voters switch their allegiances to a Democrat? What happened with Hicks illustrates the challenges McCain's campaign faces as it tries to distance itself from the Bush administration and maintain healthy margins in rural Missouri. McCain needs at least 60 percent of the vote in rural areas like Lewis County to overcome Barack Obama's advantage in urban areas, activists in both parties say.

"I guess I used to see everything as black and white, right and wrong," Hicks says. "And things are just not that way." JeffCo voters feel economic pinch.

Hicks' work is to promote Hannibal, a historic river town fixated on Samuel Clemens, who famously wrote as Mark Twain about his experiences growing up there. Twain's famous face beckons from dozens of signs. The visitors' center where Hicks works offers views of both the Hotel Clemens and the Mark Twain Dinette. On a recent weekday, during tourism's slow season, the visitors' center is mostly quiet, leaving staffers time to talk politics.

Mary Sexton, tour and travel manager, is a registered Republican. She especially likes Palin. "A breath of fresh air," she says.

Virginia Taylor, 73, who works as a greeter, is unsure about Palin. Or McCain. Or Obama. "As old as I am," says Taylor, "this is the first time that I've had to think really hard about who to vote for."

Ask Hicks what changed him and he begins with when his dad got sick.

Randy Hicks had a good job as a welder. He had good insurance, too. He had battled lymphoma for years, which then reappeared as leukemia. He was too sick to work. His employer tried to carry him, but he had to go on disability. He lost his job-related health insurance. He burned through his life savings. He enrolled in state Medicaid, the provider of last resort.

"We went from a family that had money to a family that had medical bills," says Beau Hicks, recalling how his dad built and sold birdhouses to raise money to pay something toward his hospital stays.

A few years ago, state Republicans made deep cuts to the Medicaid system. Hicks recalls how Republican officials bragged about the money they were saving taxpayers. At one time, he might have agreed. "I remember my dad said it was cheaper for him to die than to go to Barnes to get good care," Hicks says, referring to Barnes-Jewish Hospital. "That turned me against the Republican establishment."

About the same time, Hicks' younger brother, Tucker, was shipped to Iraq. He was an Air Force military policeman. He broke his leg wrestling a prisoner, and eventually came home. Just 22, Tucker Hicks was diagnosed with lymphoma. His family believes it is related to chemical exposure during the war.

Hicks thought his brother would receive a hero's welcome. Instead, Tucker Hicks faced fights over medals — including whether he deserved a Purple Heart — and battles with the military over paying for his cancer treatments, which eventually put the disease into remission.

It hit Beau Hicks all at once, late in 2005. His party was in power, but it did not seem to be helping him. "My God, they don't care about my dad or my brother," he says. He and his wife resigned from the Republican Party county committee. And Hicks decided to run as a Democrat for state representative in 2006. During the campaign, Hicks says, he heard people label him a traitor for switching parties. It was his first and so far only foray as a candidate. He lost to an incumbent Republican. But he proudly points out that he got 46 percent of the vote.

His dad died over the summer in 2006. Hicks' mom, Patsy, keeps a laminated copy of the newspaper obituary in a flag-decorated holder by the kitchen. A photo of Tucker Hicks in basic training graces her refrigerator.

Patsy Hicks' house sits about a hundred feet from the house shared by Beau Hicks and his family. One night after work, Hicks sits in his mom's kitchen recalling all they had been through as a family. "We kinda fell through the cracks, didn't we, Beau?" Patsy Hicks, 52, a hairstylist, says. Her son nods silently. He walks back home to find that his wife and three children have returned from errands.

Melanie Hicks, 30, is more conservative than her husband. But she is disappointed by Bush, and McCain isn't winning her over. In the background, the TV is tuned to CNN, playing the day's political highlights. Far from the campaign trail, sitting at a kitchen table strewn with toys and a set of flag-decorated salt and pepper shakers, Melanie Hicks considers for the first time not voting for a Republican presidential candidate.

"I do like that Obama is young, that he's got kids, like us," she says. "He just might be what this country needs."

At that, Beau Hicks smiles.

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