What we’ve learned from a year of attending Oz and Fetterman campaign events

John Fetterman took the stage on a picture-perfect fall day in Bristol this week and reached out his arms, his expansive sweatshirted wing span greeting adoring fans who waved black Fetterman signs. There were outbursts of encouragement and laughs at the familiar campaign-trail jokes throughout his speech.

The week before, Mehmet Oz had met with a group of Black clergy during a celebration of the ministry’s anniversary. At a table with a dozen people talking about gun violence, he listened more than he spoke, asking simple questions like “Why do you think this is happening?” and “What would you do to resolve the issue?” He stayed afterward for a lengthy service to round out a more than three-hour campaign stop in Northeast Philadelphia, outlasting most of the reporters who had come to cover it.

The campaign events in the Pennsylvania Senate race are as different as the candidates. And while TV ads and direct mail are typically more effective in persuading a wide swath of voters than a rally or a roundtable, the differing approaches reflect the strategies, strengths, and limitations of both campaigns in the critical four-week stretch before the election.

Crowd size and even enthusiasm are highly unreliable predictors of an election. President Joe Biden was continually mocked by former President Donald Trump for his more COVID-safe events that didn’t include big audiences. But Fetterman and Oz do attract different vibes and crowds.

Fetterman’s campaign holds large, energetic rallies, branded with themed posters and blaring rock music, amping up a base that already loves him. The crowds are typically diverse in background and age, and many people say it’s their first time attending a rally. Oz stages much more intimate moments, often at smaller community-based events, or midsize town halls his campaign organizes, sometimes with more reporters than people.

“Rather than preaching to the choir, Dr. Oz is going out and talking to people who you might not expect a traditional Republican to talk to,” Oz campaign adviser Barney Keller said. “He’s talked to Democrats ... , unions, African American groups, and people who, quite frankly, can’t even be counted on to vote.”

Fetterman’s team argues that its events have something special: voters actually excited about a politician, sometimes showing up in the hundreds, even in Republican areas. In bright-blue Montgomery County last month, 3,000 people showed up to see the Democrat.

“Not just in Pennsylvania, in any Senate race in the country, no one’s getting crowds like we are, weekend after weekend,” Fetterman spokesperson Joe Calvello said.

And in an intensely acerbic race, both candidates have slammed the other’s events as evidence of the other’s weaknesses. Fetterman’s campaign tweets out crowd photos, claiming Oz can’t fill big rooms. Oz’s campaign points to Fetterman’s 10-minute speeches and refusal to take reporter or audience questions afterward in an attempt to cast doubt on Fetterman’s health.

Oz’s events, for the most part, are reminiscent of his daytime TV show (though he did rally with Trump in Wilkes-Barre in early September).

Typically, he walks around, mic in hand, or sits on a stool to deliver a speech, calling Fetterman a radical and a pretend blue-collar advocate in a straight-talking style that’s animated but not rousing.

“Since Dr. Oz’s campaign started, I thought his roundtables were ... re-creating what he was comfortable with, his TV show,” said Republican strategist Chris Nicholas, who is not involved with either campaign. “At the Oz events, it’s back and forth, interactive. At Fetterman’s, it’s all one way, and I think that Fetterman’s rallies have always been designed to be getting people fired up and out the door, and Oz’s have been more trying to be education.”

The types of events Oz does “put more pressure on the candidate,” Nicholas said.

“There’s a lot more potential for making a goof or a gaffe, whereas if you come out at a rally and just talk for six minutes, it’s much less intense and much less taxing for the candidate.”

Oz will listen to audience questions or community member concerns, often inviting them to share personal stories, which have made for some camera-ready moments.

At a roundtable for veterans in Duryea, in Luzerne County, a woman spoke about her father’s suicide after his military service. Oz embraced her as cameras clicked all around. His walk around Kensington ended with him escorting four people to a ministry that helps people in addiction connect with a detox program — cameras and reporters following the whole way.

Even at one of his larger events, a Bucks County rally, he came jogging out from backstage when a woman collapsed, and stayed with her until paramedics arrived.

Those moments could help — and may even be partly designed to — strengthen Oz’s image and likability as he tries to fend off attacks from Fetterman that he’s an elitist, out of touch with everyday people. Oz’s favorability in June was at a low 27%, which has only grown modestly to 36%.

“I’m guessing that Oz is doing the smaller events because he can’t put a big crowd together,” Democratic strategist Mike Mikus said. “I ... just think there’s still a lot of Republicans who are going to vote for him who just aren’t terribly excited about him and wouldn’t go to a rally unless Donald Trump was there.”

The race, however, has tightened, something observers attribute to Republican skepticism of Oz waning as the candidate and outside groups have stepped up attacks on Fetterman.

Fetterman’s rallies are large, public events, typically on the weekends. (Though he has also done some smaller events, too, some public, some not, including in Southwest Philadelphia on Monday.)

There are often giveaways: “Fetterwoman” T-shirts at a rally about abortion rights, yellow rally towels in Pittsburgh. The events take on a festival atmosphere — a Fetterman food truck now even sells campaign merch. His supporters are more like fans who gush about him.

“He gives you hope about how regular people can live in this world,” said Mary Gadebusch, 65, of Levittown, sitting on a bench waiting for Fetterman to speak.

People around her waved homemade signs echoing the meme-dominated campaign they’re clearly following closely. A woman swayed side to side, arms raised to Lynyrd Skynyrd’s “Simple Man.”

“You could not create in a machine somebody who better represents Pennsylvania,” said Maguire Sholett, a Princeton sophomore from Bucks County who came home for the rally. “What you’re seeing today, it just shows, I think, the passion that we all have for somebody like John.”

Fetterman’s events are also more protected. He’s kept away from reporters and has little interaction with voters, except for photos and handshakes after his speech.

His campaign has said that’s in part due to his recovery from his May stroke. He struggles with auditory processing, or difficulty understanding words, particularly when there is competing background noise.

“I guarantee it, there’s at least one people here filming me, hoping to catch me missing some words,” Fetterman told the crowd.

“You’re human!” someone yelled back, prompting the crowd to burst into encouraging applause.

Fetterman has increasingly woven his stroke into his stump speech and interviews as a way to connect with Pennsylvanians who have experienced health challenges and to shame Oz for his critical — and at times biting — attacks on his health.

And Fetterman’s supporters are fiercely defensive of him. Iris Pearson, a retired schoolteacher, compared him to students she’s seen work through speech disorders.

“Just, the effort and the energy he had to put into this, I mean literally, I’m in tears,” the Levittown woman said after the rally. “You absolutely root for him.”

Staff writer Henry Savage contributed to this article.