How the Democrats brought disaster on themselves

For Democrats, Tuesday was more than an election defeat. It was, in the words of local Democratic consultant Sean Clegg, a “Trumpocalpyse.”

It wasn’t just the Republican Party that Trump pantsed in his most unlikely of campaigns. He also exposed the Democratic Party and the Clinton machine as beholden to big money brokers and fatally out of touch with a large swath of the country.

Let the circular Democratic firing squad begin. The first shots should be aimed at whoever thought Hillary Clinton had sewn up any of the 22 states that she lost to Sen. Bernie Sanders of Vermont during the race for the party’s nomination — most crucially, Wisconsin and Michigan.

Those two states were part of her so-called firewall in the presidential election. Amazingly, she didn’t visit Wisconsin once during the general election, even though, with a Republican governor and Republican Legislature, you could hardly count it as a lock. Sure enough, on Tuesday she lost it.

As I write this, Michigan is still too close to call, but Trump is ahead. The Clinton team finally noticed in the campaign’s final days that she was in trouble there, but Sanders had already stunned her in the March primary. Why didn’t someone hear the alarm bells before late October?

For the life of me, I can’t figure out why all these talented, well-paid Democratic advisers didn’t see a revolution brewing in rural America.

We did nothing — nothing — to woo rural America. We ran a campaign aimed at Hillsborough and Burlingame, while completely ignoring Brentwood and Modesto. Instead of hearing cheers in San Francisco, Clinton should have been in Wayne County, Mich., listening to laid-off workers.

That’s how we got our clocks cleaned.

Just a month ago, we were discussing the demise of the Republican Party and how it would have to repair the damage inflicted by nominating an ignorant narcissist.

Some damage. Trump kept the Senate in the GOP’s hands and delivered scores of down-ballot races all across the country.

Trump’s power was not the product of big money or highly paid consultants and pollsters. It came from people who were willing to work for free. Trump voters were not looking to keep funds coming into their social programs — they just wanted to be self-sustaining again.

Trump voters are the type of people who rely on their neighbors in times of need. People in small towns who are constantly in touch with one another. Not by email or social media, but directly at the hardware store.

As tech titan and Trump backer Peter Thiel said the other day, Trump’s voters took him seriously but not literally. And the rest of us took him literally but not seriously.

Worse yet, we did not take his voters seriously.

Hats off to John’s Grill owner John Konstin, who once again rolled out the free lunch, drinks and red-white-and-blue bunting for the biggest and best nonpolitical election day party you will find.

And a special shout-out to former Rep. Pete McCloskey, who was making the rounds. At 89, he still stands tall and still claims membership in that extinct species known as liberal Republicans.

Lt. Gov. Gavin Newsom was on hand as well, eyeing billionaire Tom Steyer, who is playing Hamlet on whether to jump into the 2018 governor’s race. Steyer was the voice and face of a barrage of TV ads for getting out the vote, cleaning up the air and raising the tobacco tax.

“I don’t know what kind of governor you would be,” I told Steyer. “But you definitely could sell vacuum cleaners.”

Add in several members of the Board of Supervisors, half the staff of The Chronicle and 2,000 other people who wandered in and out for the free grub, and you had one of the most rocking affairs anyone is likely to see for some time.

The party probably set Konstin back several thousand dollars, but he tossed it off, saying, “I like to think of it as my golf club membership.”

How San Francisco is that?

Disaster loomed when my cell phone rang at Sam’s Grill, where former Mayor Art Agnos and real-estate man Victor Makras were hosting a fundraiser for Supervisor Aaron Peskin the night before the election.

It was my wife, Blanche, from outside Oracle Arena, tearfully telling me that someone had hacked into the computer system of a not-to-be-named ticket service and made off with the four Warriors tickets I had bought for her birthday.

Peskin must have seen the trouble written on my face, or maybe he just heard my cussing, but he asked what the problem was and I told him.

The next thing I know, he pulls out his cell phone and dials up Warriors President Rick Welts, who promptly dispatches an usher to escort Blanche and her friends into the game.

Disaster averted. But Welts goes one step further and finds them room in the arena’s prime seat section — so now, Blanche wants those seats for the next game.

Want to sound off? Email: wbrown@sfchronicle.com