Former Republican Gov. Mike Rounds easily won the South Dakota Senate race on Tuesday, taking advantage of a split field that included progressive Democrat Rick Weiland and an iconoclastic ex-GOP senator, Larry Pressler. Weiland had hoped that American Indian voters, boosted by expanded voting access on reservations, would push him over the top, just as they did with Sen. Tim Johnson (D-S.D.) in 2002. That didn't happen.
Shannon County, which includes much of the Pine Ridge Reservation, voted overwhelmingly for Weiland (he took 81 percent of that vote). But turnout dropped from its 2012 level, and the race wasn't close enough for votes on the reservation to matter. There was a silver lining, though: 2,161 residents voted to change the county's name. Shannon County was named for former Dakota Territory Supreme Court Chief Justice Peter Shannon, whose principle accomplishment was to help kick American Indians off their land in the 1890s. The new name: Oglala Lakota County, after the tribe that calls the reservation home.
Four years after losing a Senate special election to Scott Brown, Massachusetts Democratic attorney general Martha Coakley is on the brink of defeat in another race that was hers to lose. Both Fox News and ABC have called the governor's race for Republican Charlie Baker, but Coakley has pledged to fight on—at least until Wednesday morning.
The result, if it holds, is a gut-punch for Democrats in the Bay State, where Coakley once led by 29 points. As the race tightened in the campaign's final month, heavyweight surrogates came to Massachusetts to stump for the nominee. But in the end, not even Elizabeth Warren and Hillary Clinton could save Coakley from another electoral defeat.
The easy takeaway here is that Coakley is a spectacularly bad candidate, woefully out of touch with Massachusetts voters. "You could call her the Bill Buckner of politics, if she even knew who the Red Sox were," as Politico Magazine's Ben Schreckinger put it in October. But if you really know who the Red Sox are, you'd know that Buckner's famous gaffe came only after the rest of the team had already blown the game. And that's sort what happened here—the loss stemmed from a confluence of factors, not a singularly flawed candidate.
Michigan's "foreclosure king" is coming to Washington. Republican David Trott, a Michigan businessman who got rich on the collapse of the state's housing market, easily fended off his Democratic rival in Michigan's 11th congressional district.
A former state finance chair for Mitt Romney’s presidential campaign, Trott's line of work made him a polarizing figure in Michigan. As I reported in January:
Trott's campaign notes that the candidate has a wide array of business interests, but his financial disclosure forms leave no doubt that foreclosures are where he made his fortune. Through various interconnected concerns, Trott is involved in virtually every aspect of the foreclosure business.
His flagship operation is Trott & Trott, a 500-person law firm founded by his father that is one of the largest foreclosure specialists in the state; its clients are largely lenders, such as Bank of America and Countrywide. Trott & Trott doesn't personally evict homeowners; it handles the paperwork for banks that do. "It's what we do; it's all we've ever done," Trott said in a 2007 TV interview, of his foreclosure work.
He also owns a real estate firm that manages foreclosed properties, as well as a newspaper chain, Michigan Legal News, that banks are required to post foreclosure notices in.
Trott doesn't just benefit from foreclosures; his firm has pushed to change state law to make it easier for banks to kick people out of their homes.
The race was (most likely) the swan song for GOP Rep. Kerry Bentivolio, a Santa-impersonating reindeer rancher who was elected almost by accident in 2012 when the incumbent congressman was disqualified. Trott crushed Bentivolio in the August primary, and Bentivolio appeared finished. But in October, Bentivolio announced he would wage a write-in campaign for the seat on the grounds that it might help drive out turnout for other GOP candidates on the ticket. (The fact that he continued to refer to Trott as "the foreclosure attorney" perhaps pointed to less altruistic motives.)
As of Tuesday night, Bentivolio has received fewer than 1,100 votes.
Texas Democrats started the 2014 election cycle with a dream of turning the state blue for the first time in two decades, buoyed by a progressive hero on the ballot and an influx of outside cash and organizers. Instead, the nation's biggest red state just got even redder. On Tuesday, for the fifth consecutive cycle, Texas Republicans swept statewide offices, including the race for governor, where Republican attorney general Greg Abbott cruised past Democratic state Sen. Wendy Davis.
It was Abbott who made the decision to hire now-Sen. Ted Cruz to be the state's first solicitor general, and it was Abbott—more so even than retiring Gov. Rick Perry—who epitomized his state's antagonistic relationship with Washington, suing the Obama administration no fewer than 27 times in his first five years. ("I go into the office, I sue Barack Obama, and then I go home," Abbott likes to tell Republican audiences.) Lest he be tempted to move to the center, voters also tapped state Sen. Dan Patrick to be his lieutenant governor, a position that's disproportionately powerful in Texas because it serves a dual legislative and executive function. Patrick has said that God speaks to the world through Duck Dynasty's Phil Robertson, and warned that migrants are bringing "third-world diseases" with them across the border.
Winning in the Lone Star State was always supposed to be an uphill battle for Democrats in 2014, a point that Battleground Texas, the field-organizing outfit launched last spring by a group of Obama campaign volunteers, made clear from the get-go. When Davis jumped into the race, the time-frame shifted. As the group's executive director, Jenn Brown, told me in September, Davis' candidacy settled a chicken-and-egg dilemma that had been confounding organizers: "Great people don't want to run unless they feel there's an infrastructure to support them, but it's hard to get great infrastructure without great candidates."
But Davis—and Battleground—also had the effect of throwing a football at a hornet's nest. FreedomWorks, a conservative political outfit, launched an $8-million "Come and Take It" project last year designed to thwart Democratic gains. Sen. John Cornyn (R-Texas), who faced minimal Democratic resistance in his re-election bid this year, nonetheless asked for donations to combat "out-of-state organizers"—and "Keep it Red." (That's not to be confused with another group, "Let's Keep it Texas Red," which was formed before Cornyn's group but which per its campaign finance report exists mainly to sell t-shirts.) Even conservative provocateur James O'Keefe—recently seen crossing the border dressed as Osama Bin Laden—got in on the action, publishing a sting video purporting to show Battleground volunteers illegally cribbing phone numbers from voter registration rolls. (The practice is not illegal.)
No one took the threat more seriously than Abbott, who warned that Democratic groups constituted "an assault far more dangerous than what the leader of North Korea threatened when he said he was going to add Austin, Texas, as one of the recipients of his nuclear weapons." He walked the walk, too, making repeated visits to heavily Hispanic, heavily Democratic South Texas in the hopes of offsetting any gains the Davis campaign hoped it could make.
What do Blackwater's founder, Koch Industries, and Mitt Romney have in common? They've all been represented by Northern Virginia's newest congresswoman.
Republican Barbara Comstock cruised to victory on Tuesday, easing past Fairfax County supervisor John Foust in a suburban DC district. Comstock will replace retiring GOP Rep. Frank Wolf, for whom she once worked as an aide. You'll be hearing a lot more from her.
Electing Comstock—a veteran of two Romney campaigns, the Bush White House, and the Clinton wars—was personal for establishment Republicans. As I reported in an April profile, she got her start as an investigator on the House Oversight and Government Affairs Committee in the 1990s, carving out a reputation as one of the Clintons' most obsessive critics. She parlayed her work as opposition-research guru for George W. Bush's first campaign into a job as a spokeswoman for Attorney General John Ashcroft. She then moved into crisis PR, where she repped clients such as Blackwater founder Erik Prince and disgraced Cheney aide Scooter Libby. From there, she moved on to lobbying, on behalf of companies like Koch Industries and the private prison giant GEO Group. If liberals were upset about it in the 2000s, chances are Barbara Comstock was involved somehow.
Although the 10th district leans red, Democratic groups poured more than $1.2 million into the race in the hopes of expanding on their gains in an increasingly blue state. Dismissing Comstock's work in DC, Foust said of his opponent, "I don't even think she's had a real job." In response, Republicans flooded the airwaves with ads like this one, slamming Foust as a hurtful misogynist:
The ad doesn't quite get it right—Foust was attacking all women in the same way that Republicans who insist President Barack Obama never held a real job are attacking all men.
But the sexism narrative obscured a larger trend that Comstock's victory helps solidify—the Beltwayification of Northern Virginia. Consider that Virginia's new Democratic governor was a Democratic National Committee chair and fundraising guru; Virginia's junior senator, Tim Kaine, was a DNC chair*; Virginia's GOP Senate nominee, Ed Gillespie, was a former Republican National Committee chair and high-powered lobbyist from the DC suburbs; George Allen, Virginia's GOP Senate nominee in 2012, was a lobbyist from the DC suburbs. Foust's mistake wasn't misogyny; it was forgetting that lobbyists are people too—especially in McLean, Virginia.
*Correction: This story originally stated that Kaine is from the DC suburbs; he is from Richmond.