But there was still dissent in the crowd.
A middle-aged man in a camouflage hunting jacket and a baseball cap that read "National Rifle Association" pushed his way to the front.
He wasn't holding a weapon, but there was a conspicuous bulge at his waist—standard issue for men in a place like Erie.
"Mayor!"
the man shouted in a rough voice.
"We trust you, and we want that money, but… that's the Democratic Party!"
The man's voice was loud, instantly silencing the people around him.
"Those liberals in Washington, they're on TV all day yelling about banning our guns! They support letting people who don't even know if they're men or women into women's bathrooms! They want to shut down our churches!"
"If we take their money, does that mean we have to hand over our hunting rifles? Does it mean we have to accept their disgusting rules?"
The question was like a bucket of cold water poured over a freshly lit fire.
The crowd began to stir restlessly.
