In the run-up to the 1924 presidential election, which pitted Republican incumbent Calvin Coolidge against Democrat John W. Davis, the Parisian watering hole Harry’s Bar offered its American patrons something new on the menu: a chance to vote.
Absentee ballots were not yet available to Americans living abroad, and Harry MacElhone, the bar’s namesake and founder, sympathized with expat regulars such as F. Scott Fitzgerald, Cole Porter, and Ernest Hemingway, who felt excluded.
“His idea was to hold a fake election followed by a real party,” said Franz-Arthur MacElhone, Harry’s great-grandson, the bar’s fourth-generation owner, who holds court at the Second Arrondissement institution near the Place Vendôme.
Since then, Harry’s has organized a straw vote for every presidential race, hoisting up a heavy, wooden, white locked box onto the whiskey shelf at the entrance. Starting in October, anyone with a valid U.S. passport can waltz in, fill out their ballot, and cast a vote. Votes are tallied every Friday, and the latest numbers are scrawled in white marker on the mirror behind the bar. The process will continue until November 5, when the first polls close on the East Coast. (Which is after midnight in Paris, it must be said.)
This year, author Douglas Kennedy kicked off the proceedings on October 8 to a round of applause. “The fact that [the race] is so close this year is shocking,” Kennedy told a camera crew in impeccable French. “It’s very important everyone votes.”
As of press time, Harry’s tally has Kamala Harris leading Donald Trump 65 percent to 35 percent (a 13-point bounce from last week). Some patrons find her strong performance surprising; then again, Americans in France tend to skew Democratic.
Harry’s has organized a straw vote for every presidential race, hoisting up a heavy, wooden, white locked box onto the whiskey shelf at the entrance.
“But the Harry’s voter isn’t always a resident,” insists MacElhone. “In general, our straw votes don’t vary that much from national polls.”
If anything, they’re more accurate. The Harry’s poll has only flubbed it three times, calling 1976 for Gerald Ford, 2004 for John Kerry, and—most painfully—2016 for Hillary Clinton. (Join the club.)
On a recent Wednesday, Diane Anderson, a communications professional visiting from Southern California, and her friend sidled up to the bar. They had just returned from Avignon with bottles of Châteauneuf-du-Pape, and both voted for Harris.
Within minutes, they struck up a conversation with fellow Harris voters Zack and Molly Randall, of Birmingham, Alabama. The honeymooners had recently been married by an Elvis impersonator at a Las Vegas chapel. Zack, a vice president of brokerage at a logistics firm, is a proud Democrat in one of the reddest states in the nation, a gadfly quality he says he inherited from his father. “My dad’s the guy who calls these right-wing talk-radio shows late at night and blasts them full tilt,” he says.
Eric Shaw, an art critic and ghostwriter from Dallas, joined in. He appreciated Harry’s effort to bring together Americans from all walks of life. “Finally, a place you can actually talk politics and not immediately demonize the other,” he says.
Laurent Giraud, the head barman, who was wearing traditional Harry’s whites, fueled the conversation with a steady stream of martinis, old-fashioneds, and even a French 75 cocktail. Those who find this entire election cycle a bit stressful may find some temporary relief in two more additions to the cocktail menu: the Kamala Harry’s Bar (cognac, Cointreau, Maraschino, and cardamom bitters) and the Trumpette (no, not a Diet Coke—lime juice, cranberry juice, Rhum, Falernum, Cointreau, and Angostura bitters).
“I’ve been here 25 years, and the Americans take their Harry’s vote seriously,” said Giraud. “They don’t come in and just ask for their ballot—they demand it.”
As with years past, Giraud expects a full house on Election Night and says the Rue Daunou will be packed. “It’s like New Year’s Eve for us,” he explains. “Bigger.”
By midnight, the roundtable of Anderson, Shaw, and the Randalls had grown to include ceramic artists from Miami and a group of Belgian collectors attending Art Basel. Victor from Antwerp voiced that his crew, too, should be able to make their voices heard. “This election affects us just as much,” he wailed. He was then consoled by a stiff Laphroaig on the rocks and a heated discussion of whether or not the German visual artist Gerhard Richter should be canceled.
By last call, the group had discussed gun ownership, yoga, the opioid crisis, various American accents, Louisiana’s offshore drilling, and the wine lobby’s attempt to stifle the legalization of marijuana in France.
But it’s not all drinking and discourse. Like American politics, Harry’s Bar is not immune to scandal. “During last Friday’s count, I placed a few ballots to the side, because people got drunk and drew pictures on the ballots instead of voting, but a woman shouted, ‘He’s rigging the votes!’” says MacElhone.
“I laughed until I realized she wanted to stop the steal. It was tense for a second, but we ended up sorting it out. It’s Harry’s Bar. That’s what we do.”
John von Sothen is a Paris-based writer, a frequent contributor to AIR MAIL, and the author of Monsieur Mediocre
