For the first 10 years of his life, Alexander Urievich Tokalchev never went outside of the orphanage’s walls.

He grew up in the middle of Moscow, Russia, but knew nothing about the city or world. At one point Alexander was headed to a family in Italy. Then it was America. When the U.S. was attacked on Sept. 11, 2001, Alexander, for once in his life, was given a choice.

If he didn’t feel safe going to America, he’d have two more years to get adopted before he was no longer eligible — and at 18 he’d join the Russian military or get an industrial job.

If he chose to go, he’d be in a Pennsylvania suburb two years later, lose his Russian accent by his junior year of high school, row for a Division I college and run for president of Syracuse University’s Student Association.

Alexander’s decision led him to the latter.

“I knew nothing beyond that life and it made me curious about what was out there,” said Alexander, who is now AJ Abell. “I had a tough childhood, really tough, but I don’t use it as an excuse for anything. I’ve been able to do anything I’ve wanted, and it hasn’t set me back.”

If Abell doesn’t win the SA election, he won’t say it’s because he’s a write-in candidate. Because he’s not on the actual ballot — he and running mate Jon Dawson put their names in a few days after the petition deadline — students have to first remember his name, then type it as their vote.

But Abell’s life has taught him to value experience as much as result. His past has loose connections to a platform centered on transparency and inclusiveness. As a student-athlete that’s never been in SA, he sees his candidacy as a potentially fresh perspective, even though most presidents rise through the ranks.

And it’s all rooted in the same curiosity that once led him to a new life.

“The thing about AJ is that he sees something and wonders how it can be better. He does that all the time,” Dawson said. “Even if we don’t win and students care more about SA and what’s going on on campus, we’ll both see that as a success.”

When AJ was adopted by Tim and Peggy Abell in 2003, he and three other boys from the orphanage traveled to the U.S. for a two-week “trial period.” Abell, having always been well-behaved, passed the test while two of the boys were sent back to Moscow.

Next came a warped transition into American culture.

In Moscow, Abell was used to cold food and going outside two or three times a week. It wasn’t uncommon for one boy to stand up in the middle of a classroom and punch another in the face. When he was 8, he stood in line to see the orphanage’s “dentist” only to have a tooth yanked out by pliers. He wasn’t given anesthesia.

Abell then moved to Gwynedd Valley, Pennsylvania, not knowing a word of English. He remembers not “really talking” to his adoptive parents for close to eight months, using pseudo sign language instead.

His family signed him up for Little League Baseball but he didn’t know any of the rules. When the umpire told him he was out after three strikes he smiled, nodded and stood his ground in the batter’s box. When he finally hit the ball, he ran the wrong way down the third-base line.

And when his parents took him to the dentist, he had a flashback to the shooting pain and vehemently refused to sit in the chair. He was eventually calmed down and had his teeth cleaned. America was starting to grow on him.

“Russian dentist bad, American dentist good,” Abell remembers saying, laughing at each memory as they flood back.

“His transition from where he came from to being part of our family was just so smooth,” said Ryan Abell, AJ’s younger brother. “He fit right in and it was kind of amazing. Even from a young age he wanted to be in control, be in charge and have a lot of responsibilities.

“I could definitely could see him as the president of Syracuse’s Student Association.”

When Abell and Dawson announced their write-in campaign after Spring Break, Abell said he was “perceived as a joke by SA.” He didn’t have any experience in the organization, his campaign website had a page for “Cat Pictures” and student-athletes don’t generally cross into student government.

But he’s a keen communicator as a broadcast and digital journalism major and thinks that being a student-athlete offers him an unfiltered look at SA’s role in the SU community. He met with a number of campus organizations and found his goal of uniting the campus similar to theirs. Then he sat down with outgoing SA president Boris Gresley to prove his the legitimacy of his candidacy.

Soon after, he and Dawson ordered 40 shirts with “#enABELL the students” printed across the back. It’s the slogan they’ve attached to their mission to empower and engage the Syracuse student body — a self-noted cliché that Abell thinks he can turn into action.

“I think that, right now, the campus is like this,” Abell said before placing the university’s different groups in imaginary compartments all around him.

“It has to be more like this,” he said, smacking his hands together and locking his fingers.

Abell smiles when thinking of the improbability — with his past and write-in candidacy — of him becoming SA president.

He admittedly doesn’t know all the nuances of the organization and would have to memorize all the bylaws if he were chosen. But he also was enrolled in an American elementary school before he could ask his parents for a glass of water. The learning curve doesn’t bother him. Neither do the slim odds.

Because Abell was once Alexander Tokalchev and anything other than the Moscow orphanage felt out of reach. Now any goal feels feasible — even while he hopes for a handful of students to physically write the next chapter of his life.

“When I was thinking about coming to America, I thought I could live the American dream,” Abell said. “… It’s on a smaller scale, but my campaign visions are sort of like my Syracuse dream.”

Published on April 14, 2015 at 12:05 am

Contact Jesse: [email protected] | @dougherty_jesse