Most afternoons, on a bench in Palmer Square, an unassuming man sits with his hands in his pockets. He sometimes smokes a cigarette, but he always has a sign next to him. The first time I truly noticed him, one colorful word stuck out to me on his handwritten whiteboard: “Trump.”
His political signs often center around the president, with phrases ranging from “Trump should shut up and end the shutdown; enough already” to “Henceforth: Letters to Trump should be directed c/o [care of] The White House or what’s left of it,” referencing the recent government shutdown and demolition of the White House East Wing.
As I approached him for an interview, he put out his cigarette and smiled up at me, his blue and green jacket zipped up all the way and a sign to his left with big, bold and capitalized letters.
This man is Patrick Ryan ’68, and the first time he was in Princeton, New Jersey, as a student in the turbulent late sixties, he was never an activist. He played football, he was the president of the Ivy Club, but he never engaged in politics.
With his Bob Marley “One Love” hat atop of his head, he looked the part of the easygoing sixties guy.
This is how everyone described him to me, even from his time in college. James Regan Kerney ’68 met Ryan as a fellow freshman on the football team, and the two joined Ivy Club together. For Kerney, Ryan was outgoing and popular. “Everybody knew him,” he said.
Jared Roberts ’68, a mutual friend to both Ryan and Kerney and a former Ivy officer, remembers Ryan as “an incredibly personable and friendly person.” Ryan left a lasting impression on his peers: if there was a popularity contest for the Class of 1968, Roberts contends Ryan would have been in the running.
After graduation, Ryan played hopscotch with his career, producing and directing educational documentaries, going to law school (although he has not finished the degree) and working in brokerage, to even becoming the director of the largest art gallery in Charleston in May of 2015.
“I was interested in doing what I wanted to do rather than [climbing] the corporate ladder,” Ryan said. “I could take every letter of the alphabet from A to Z, and I could probably put a paying job I had under each letter.”
From Oaxaca to San Francisco, Santa Fe to Hawaii, his trajectory ultimately led him back to Old Nassau. “No matter where I lived, because I was my own boss, I would always come back [to Princeton],” Ryan said. “It’s home.”
Despite his current activities and his catalogue of a career, one thing that Ryan didn’t do in college was activism. Roberts expressed surprise by his old friend’s new calling, but found that “it fits right in with his personality.” Kerney was unsurprised. “He just loves to perform, and so this is a performance on his part — he throws his heart into it.”
“I wasn’t active in doing anything until last spring,” Ryan himself said, but after 100 days of the second Trump presidency, Ryan, who never considered himself political, was at his “breaking point.” On Apr. 27, he debuted his first sign: “New Book, ‘100 Days of Ineptitude’ by Donald Trump.”
Ryan thought something needed to be done. And that was only the beginning.
The impromptu April day has since turned into a near-daily ritual, sitting on the same bench with a new sign three hours at a time to promote his message. Ryan does not work for any activism organization and does not receive compensation for his work — so why does he do it, and why now?
Ryan recalled a tumultuous year in American politics: 1968. With the Vietnam War, the assassinations of Martin Luther King and Bobby Kennedy, and the Democratic National Convention in Chicago ending in riots, he saw history mirrored in today’s political turmoil due to the second Trump presidency.
“Back then, even with all the chaos, nobody thought that the country was in danger of turning fascist or totalitarian,” Ryan said. “I’m more worried about our country than I have ever been, and that’s why I do this.”
His fear led him to Nassau Street, but Ryan tries to make his signs lighter-hearted than the moment he reflects. “When I first started doing the signs, I didn’t want to make them vulgar, I didn’t want to make them hateful,” Ryan remembered. He expressed that the best way to appeal to an audience is through laughter — so he makes people laugh.
The sign Ryan keeps close to his side changes daily, each day with a new message, usually short phrases or one-liners, never more than a few sentences. Current Princetonians and Nassau Street regulars stop and look, smile and laugh, or may hurry by, but Ryan’s signs certainly invoke curiosity.
A new friend to some and an old one to others, Ryan makes his impact on the city of Princeton, one sign and one day at a time.
Richard Rein ’69 didn’t know Ryan at all while their time at Princeton overlapped. They were on what Rein described as “opposite sides” of the social scene, Rein being the former chairman (the traditional title for editor-in-chief) of The Daily Princetonian and an avid “anti-bicker guy” while he vaguely knew of Ryan as “the dreaded ‘Mr. Club’ guy.”
Now, Rein, an active member of the Princeton community, sees Ryan and his signs regularly. “I think it’s terrific and [represents] democracy, lower case ‘d’,” Rein said. “Pat is a guy who has really made the best of a liberal arts education and has become a liberal… in his thinking and is open to different ideas.”
The daily signs were his first step in Ryan’s activism, but now, he also participates in short talks inside Palmer Square with a group of kindred spirits who share a similar mindset involving current American politics.“I don’t consider it a job, but when I do get committed to something, I get fired up about it,” Ryan said.
His time on the bench and giving speeches provides a sense of comfort for Ryan, no matter the turnout. “We have the satisfaction of knowing that there are other people who feel like we do, ” he said. Ryan credited his signs as the foundation of this like-minded community.
Rein agrees. “[The signs] are promoting community and I think every little bit helps. What do they say? All politics is local.”
“I find the time I spend out here is kind of therapeutic for me,” said Ryan. “Elsewise I’d be screeching like a banshee at the news in my apartment, and that’s not doing anything.”
Among those who have passed by Ryan’s bench is Dale Caldwell ’82, running mate of Mikie Sherrill, who won the candidacy for New Jersey governor on Tuesday. As I sat with Ryan for our interview, Caldwell and his team passed us. They flashed their cameras at the sign and stopped to chat, praising Ryan’s sign and discussing the upcoming gubernatorial election. The interaction ended with Caldwell posing for a picture with Ryan — together at his post.
“We’ve got to win!” Ryan told Caldwell. “We wish [Sherrill] good luck.”
Along with his support for Sherrill’s campaign comes a “visceral dislike” for Trump and his recent choices.“I will go to my grave not understanding the Trump thing. I’m not only embarrassed for the country, I’m outraged, I’m disappointed,” said Ryan.
He referenced the president’s influence among his followers in particular: “You demonize others, you subvert institutions, you tell a lie, you make it a bigger lie, you make it even a bigger lie, and if you keep telling it to enough people, there will be people who believe you.”
“I don’t think I’m changing a Trump supporter’s mind, but I think I am providing a lighthearted way for people to know that they’re not alone, that other people feel the same way,” noted Ryan.
To Ryan, now is the time to act. He refers to an Edmund Burke quote, as a purpose behind his time on the bench: “When bad men combine, the good must associate; else they will fall one by one.”
Gabby Reece is a contributing Features writer for the ‘Prince.’
Please send any corrections to corrections[at]dailyprincetonian.com.






