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A Pennsylvania County and the Political Tensions in America

Luzerne County is one of many counties in Pennsylvania — and across the country — that shifted to the right this year.

We spent two weeks there before and after the election to understand what’s driving these changes.

By Philip Montgomery and Michael Sokolove

Nov. 15, 2024

On the Sunday before the election, the state chapter of Bikers for Trump organized a ride of 100 motorcycles in Luzerne County.

They planned to travel from just outside Wilkes-Barre to Scranton, President Biden’s hometown, in neighboring Lackawanna County.

This northeast corner of Pennsylvania used to be called coal country.

Today the largest private employers are warehouses, including facilities for Amazon, T.J. Maxx and the pet-supplies retailer Chewy.

The politics of the area have also shifted.

For two decades its voters reliably leaned Democratic, but Donald Trump won the county in 2016 and again four years later, both times by solid margins.

Dwayne McDavitt, a retired prison guard and a Bikers for Trump leader, is one of the more visible local backers of the former president.

Before the rally in Scranton, he explained that he doubted the result of the 2020 election because he simply did not believe Trump could have lost fairly: “Tell me how Joe Biden could get 81 million votes.”

But Democrats hoped they could move the county back in their direction and made an intensive effort to do so.

In the weeks ahead of the election, busloads of Democratic canvassers fanned out across Luzerne County.

Kevin Kraynak, a Luzerne County native, traveled from his home in California to try to get out the vote.

He hit his 100th mile of canvassing in Forty Fort, outside Wilkes-Barre. “I’m going to walk until my legs fall off,” he said.

County officials were vigilant leading up to Election Day. Luzerne County became a hotbed of election denialism in 2020, and Pennsylvania is an open-carry state. Some people feared voters might bring guns to the polls. Election workers were told they could bring their own guns.

The night before the election, a group of campaign volunteers organized by Jennifer Ziemba, the wife of the Luzerne County Republican Party chairman, gathered at Ziemba’s home in Harveys Lake, a prosperous community outside Wilkes-Barre.

They were calling Republican voters whose mail-in ballots had flaws like a missing date to tell them they had to cast provisional ballots in person.

“We’re not really MAGA-looking,” one of the women said. But they were staunch Trump supporters.

Philip Montgomery for The New York Times

“The women voting solely on abortion make me crazy,” Ziemba said. “I’d gladly give up my abortion rights and my daughter’s for my son not to have to go to war. We’ll have peace with Trump.”

Another woman, Lee Ann McDermott, who owns a real estate appraisal business with her husband, John, thinks the economy will improve under Trump. “With the interest rates high, no one was refinancing.”

On Election Day, most of the state’s counties shifted further to the right, tilting Pennsylvania and its 19 Electoral College votes to Trump by about 130,000 voters.

Just over 152,000 total ballots were cast in Luzerne County — about the same as in 2020.

But Trump increased his margin to 20 points from 14. In only one other Pennsylvania county were Trump’s gains greater.

For Democrats, it was a devastating result.

“This is scary to me,” Constance Wynn said. She had downloaded Project 2025. “I need to understand what he’s planning to do.”

She was sitting in the front parlor of her Wilkes-Barre home, built by her great-great grandfather.

Wynn’s ancestors escaped slavery by fleeing to Pennsylvania before the Civil War.

The morning after the election, some of the Bikers for Trump gathered to celebrate at D’s Diner, in the Wilkes-Barre suburb of Plains Township.

A man they did not know, a retired financial planner named Kim Pace, approached their table. He began by saying that his wife did not think it was a good idea to talk to them. He had voted for Harris.

“Congratulations, guys,” he said. “I hope it all works out.” His tone suggested that he was doubtful.

Philip Montgomery for The New York Times

Dave Ragan, a U.S. Army veteran who had arrived on his motorcycle, stood up to respond. “We changed the world!” he said. “I don’t have to worry about my stepdaughter having a boy in the locker room.”

“Let me tell you something,” Pace said. “That stuff is overblown.” He wished them well and left.

Away from the table, he said, “If Harris had won, there was going to be trouble.”

In the days after the election, political tensions lingered in the community.

On Thursday evening, John McDermott, a retired lieutenant colonel in the Army Reserve, sat at home with his wife, Lee Ann, drinking a vodka and tonic after a round of golf. McDermott voted for Hillary Clinton in 2016 and Trump in 2020.

This year, he voted for Harris. “I couldn’t bring myself to vote for him,” he said. “He’s a convicted felon. He believes in conspiracy theories.”

Lee Ann, a county council member, saw matters differently: She was one of the women making calls at Jennifer Ziemba’s house on the eve of the election. Now she was on her way to meet some of them at a restaurant to toast Trump’s win.

The mood was festive when McDermott arrived. “We’re getting Trumpy!” one of the women exclaimed, as they raised their cosmopolitans and glasses of wine.

Philip Montgomery for The New York Times

Among the revelers was Shelley Meuser, the wife of Representative Dan Meuser, whose district includes a part of Luzerne County.

“We got our country back!” shouted Terry Eckert, who is a real estate agent.

Philip Montgomery for The New York Times

Thirty miles down the road from Wilkes-Barre is Luzerne County’s other city, Hazleton. Its population of 30,000 is 63 percent Latino, an estimated 90 percent of whom are from the Dominican Republic.

Trump won the city decisively, increasing his share of its vote from 2020 by 7 points — substantially more than the 1.9 points he gained statewide.

The community is generally low-income, churchgoing and conservative.

Adaíris Casado, who was at Ada’s Collection, the local store she owns, said that her religion — and a conviction that Trump shares her values — led her to vote for him. “I’m worried about gay marriage,” she said, “and transgender.”

Fredelina Paredes, a paraprofessional at the nearby high school, was at home the weekend after the election with her three children and husband, who works in a plastics factory.

She has voted for Democrats in the past, including Hillary Clinton, before voting for Trump twice. One of her brothers, a first-time voter, also voted for Trump. Paredes said the Democrats no longer represent her values, especially on the issue of abortion.

She was upset about the economy, saying she just spent $9.99 for a package of grapes. “For grapes. Can you imagine that?”

Like others in Hazleton, she supported Trump’s immigration policies, including deportation plans. “I feel bad for the ones I’ve known,” she said, “friends who have been here 15 or 20 years. But you were here all that time, why didn’t you try to get your papers?”

There are at least six Catholic churches and many Pentecostal congregations in the community. One of them is the Iglesia Cristiana Agua de Vida Hazleton, where Elizabeth Torrez is the pastor.

Torrez voted for Trump and made every effort to persuade her parishioners to do the same. It wasn’t difficult, she said.

“He is always talking about God and the Bible,” she said through an interpreter. “He only has God in his mouth.”

She also supported Trump’s immigration policies. There are church members who are undocumented, she said, but she was convinced they would be deported only if they commit crimes.

One of those undocumented members of the congregation is Wadan Fernandez, who has relatives in Hazleton and said he came to the United States about two years ago to start a new life. He has overstayed his tourist visa and has been working in construction and other jobs.

“I love Mr. Trump,” Fernandez said. “Of course he could send me back at any moment, but if he did, I would still love him.”

Philip Montgomery for The New York Times

Philip Montgomery is a photographer whose work examines the fractured state of America. Michael Sokolove, a contributing writer for the magazine since 2002, has written extensively on Pennsylvania and its politics.

Videos by Tre Cassetta.

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