Bidenomics Backlash: Allentown’s Working Class Feels the Squeeze

Paul Riverbank, 12/29/2025Allentown’s residents, squeezed by rising costs and political promises, seek real relief beyond campaign slogans. As the city evolves, its working-class anxieties expose the disconnect between Washington’s debates and Main Street’s reality—underscoring America’s struggle for stability and meaningful answers in turbulent times.

She’s hardly an outlier. In Allentown these days—a city once immortalized by Billy Joel as the quintessential American steel town—the struggle isn’t just about who’s running the country, but about everyday survival. The mood, from the factories to the breakfast counters, tends to repeat the same refrain: Prices keep rising, and hope seems to be lagging behind.

That frustration isn’t lost on the politicians who keep coming through. Recently, Vice President JD Vance swept into a chilly, crowded suburb, rallying Republicans and laying the blame for climbing costs squarely at President Biden’s door. His audience, bundled in winter coats, mostly nodded along—though some faces in the crowd seemed more weary than convinced. Not long after, President Trump gave himself the sort of glowing review he’s known for—an “A+++++” on the state of the economy, echoed by Vance. Over by the window, Bisbal dismissed it all. “That’s the grade if you’re rich,” she said, shaking her head. “For me? An ‘F,’ no question.”

Get out beyond the campaign signs, and you find a city that’s quick to point fingers at expensive groceries and rent, but less certain about who’s to blame. Tony Iannelli, who heads the Lehigh Valley Chamber of Commerce, cautions against overstatement. “Strong, yes, but we’re not at robust,” he tells me, noting that there’s too much left to fix for any self-congratulations. Tom Groves, a no-nonsense health care consultant, gives the economy a “B+” — but quickly pivots to health insurance costs and his own skepticism about government fixes. Then there’s Joe Vichot, the local Republican chairman, who shrugs off Trump’s grade as “just a way of speaking.” Even supporters don’t quite buy the idea that these are unclouded boom times.

Who should get credit or blame? The lines blur. Some columnists blame the Democrats, some locals say it’s been hard as long as they can remember. Pat Gallagher, a soft-spoken retiree who once clocked in at Bethlehem Steel, moved in with family last year to make ends meet. She tells me, “All this talk about Biden or Trump—you just get tired of the fighting.” Across town, you hear the same: exhaustion with politics, worry over the bills, nostalgia for something that maybe never really existed.

Allentown’s always drawn attention from national politicians—sometimes more as a metaphor than a place with families trying to get school supplies or stretch paychecks. Trump held rallies here during the 2024 campaign, and so did Vice President Harris. Their messages tangled in the local air, but neither side seemed to pull away with an easy win. That year, Ryan Mackenzie, a Republican, edged out a win for the local congressional seat—his victory as hard-fought as the city itself. Now, as reelection looms, he runs a careful campaign: lambasting “Bidenomics” one day and pushing for a vote to extend health care subsidies the next. Vichot, the party chair, calls him “underdog,” hinting at both pride and anxiety about November.

But the story of Allentown doesn’t start and stop with the economy. In some neighborhoods, what was once a row of shuttered shops now hosts a chic hotel, and where the old factories stood, there’s a modern arena that booms with music and hockey crowds. The population is shifting, too—a majority Latino city now. Mayor Matt Tuerk, the city’s first Latino leader, frames it simply: “Change is constant,” he tells me. He predicts the rapid shifts won’t stop anytime soon.

National issues ripple through here in ways that feel specific and immediate. Senator Chuck Schumer’s warnings about offshore wind projects and green jobs strike a nerve among some who remember the steel mill layoffs. The future of health care—still an open question—leaves families and small business owners unsure what tomorrow’s insurance premium will look like, or even what will be covered. Republicans warn about the dangers of rolling back Obamacare subsidies, even as some pin rising premiums on those same policies.

Talk to people struggling to make rent and keep food on the table, and the wealth gap feels less like an academic talking point, more like a bruise. Bernie Sanders called it “immoral and unsustainable,” and that stuck with more than a few families, even if they wouldn’t call themselves progressives. Meanwhile, Trump touts market gains and job numbers—yet national polls hover around 31% approval for his handling of the economy, down noticeably since March, suggesting optimism hasn’t found its footing in most homes.

And still, looming over the city is the shadow of that other fight—January 6. Former Speaker Nancy Pelosi’s recent insistence that Trump “incited an insurrection” and her belief that “history will hold him accountable” find echo, and sometimes resistance, in the city’s conversations. It’s a reminder that, however exhausted people may feel, trust is still up for grabs.

Allentown is no stranger to outsiders arriving with microphones and big promises. In diner booths and union halls, people here have learned to listen with one ear while watching the totals at the checkout. They want real answers, the kind you can measure against a pay stub or a utility bill—not just applause lines from a visiting motorcade.

The city, in the end, keeps moving—shifting, adapting, surviving. Frustration is thick, maybe thicker than before. But amid the clatter of coffee cups and the shadows of old smokestacks, there’s still a feeling that things could get better. Just not, most here would say, by grading on a curve.

Idalia Bisbal stares at the mug between her hands, not quite drinking but not quite ready to leave it behind in the worn corner booth at Hamilton Family Restaurant. You can practically see the city in the lines on her brow—a few years ago, she’d packed up her life in New York and moved to Allentown, chasing that promise of lower rent, maybe an easier rhythm. Lately, the reality has set in, and it’s heavier than she anticipated. “It’s worse than ever,” she says, issuing a resigned laugh that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. Rent, groceries, utilities. “Everything is too expensive. There’s just no way to keep up,” she tells me, still cradling her coffee out of habit more than anything else.She’s hardly an outlier. In Allentown these days—a city once immortalized by Billy Joel as the quintessential American steel town—the struggle isn’t just about who’s running the country, but about everyday survival. The mood, from the factories to the breakfast counters, tends to repeat the same refrain: Prices keep rising, and hope seems to be lagging behind.That frustration isn’t lost on the politicians who keep coming through. Recently, Vice President JD Vance swept into a chilly, crowded suburb, rallying Republicans and laying the blame for climbing costs squarely at President Biden’s door. His audience, bundled in winter coats, mostly nodded along—though some faces in the crowd seemed more weary than convinced. Not long after, President Trump gave himself the sort of glowing review he’s known for—an “A+++++” on the state of the economy, echoed by Vance. Over by the window, Bisbal dismissed it all. “That’s the grade if you’re rich,” she said, shaking her head. “For me? An ‘F,’ no question.”Get out beyond the campaign signs, and you find a city that’s quick to point fingers at expensive groceries and rent, but less certain about who’s to blame. Tony Iannelli, who heads the Lehigh Valley Chamber of Commerce, cautions against overstatement. “Strong, yes, but we’re not at robust,” he tells me, noting that there’s too much left to fix for any self-congratulations. Tom Groves, a no-nonsense health care consultant, gives the economy a “B+” — but quickly pivots to health insurance costs and his own skepticism about government fixes. Then there’s Joe Vichot, the local Republican chairman, who shrugs off Trump’s grade as “just a way of speaking.” Even supporters don’t quite buy the idea that these are unclouded boom times.Who should get credit or blame? The lines blur. Some columnists blame the Democrats, some locals say it’s been hard as long as they can remember. Pat Gallagher, a soft-spoken retiree who once clocked in at Bethlehem Steel, moved in with family last year to make ends meet. She tells me, “All this talk about Biden or Trump—you just get tired of the fighting.” Across town, you hear the same: exhaustion with politics, worry over the bills, nostalgia for something that maybe never really existed.Allentown’s always drawn attention from national politicians—sometimes more as a metaphor than a place with families trying to get school supplies or stretch paychecks. Trump held rallies here during the 2024 campaign, and so did Vice President Harris. Their messages tangled in the local air, but neither side seemed to pull away with an easy win. That year, Ryan Mackenzie, a Republican, edged out a win for the local congressional seat—his victory as hard-fought as the city itself. Now, as reelection looms, he runs a careful campaign: lambasting “Bidenomics” one day and pushing for a vote to extend health care subsidies the next. Vichot, the party chair, calls him “underdog,” hinting at both pride and anxiety about November.But the story of Allentown doesn’t start and stop with the economy. In some neighborhoods, what was once a row of shuttered shops now hosts a chic hotel, and where the old factories stood, there’s a modern arena that booms with music and hockey crowds. The population is shifting, too—a majority Latino city now. Mayor Matt Tuerk, the city’s first Latino leader, frames it simply: “Change is constant,” he tells me. He predicts the rapid shifts won’t stop anytime soon.National issues ripple through here in ways that feel specific and immediate. Senator Chuck Schumer’s warnings about offshore wind projects and green jobs strike a nerve among some who remember the steel mill layoffs. The future of health care—still an open question—leaves families and small business owners unsure what tomorrow’s insurance premium will look like, or even what will be covered. Republicans warn about the dangers of rolling back Obamacare subsidies, even as some pin rising premiums on those same policies.Talk to people struggling to make rent and keep food on the table, and the wealth gap feels less like an academic talking point, more like a bruise. Bernie Sanders called it “immoral and unsustainable,” and that stuck with more than a few families, even if they wouldn’t call themselves progressives. Meanwhile, Trump touts market gains and job numbers—yet national polls hover around 31% approval for his handling of the economy, down noticeably since March, suggesting optimism hasn’t found its footing in most homes.And still, looming over the city is the shadow of that other fight—January 6. Former Speaker Nancy Pelosi’s recent insistence that Trump “incited an insurrection” and her belief that “history will hold him accountable” find echo, and sometimes resistance, in the city’s conversations. It’s a reminder that, however exhausted people may feel, trust is still up for grabs.Allentown is no stranger to outsiders arriving with microphones and big promises. In diner booths and union halls, people here have learned to listen with one ear while watching the totals at the checkout. They want real answers, the kind you can measure against a pay stub or a utility bill—not just applause lines from a visiting motorcade.The city, in the end, keeps moving—shifting, adapting, surviving. Frustration is thick, maybe thicker than before. But amid the clatter of coffee cups and the shadows of old smokestacks, there’s still a feeling that things could get better. Just not, most here would say, by grading on a curve.