The Hopefuls(75)
—
Over cheeseburgers and fries, Matt talked about how now was the time to focus on money. The Republicans were headed to a runoff election, so Jimmy’s opponent wouldn’t be decided until the end of May. Matt felt that the next three months were crucial, that Jimmy needed to use this time to try to get ahead. Jimmy had mostly relied on his parents’ network up to this point, and could probably count on them for some more money, but Matt emphasized that he needed to reach further, to find new people to donate. The rest of us chewed as he spoke. “We really need to ramp up our fund-raising,” he said. “This is push time.”
“Isn’t that what you have been doing?” I asked, and Matt gave me a look.
“I think we need to get you on the phone,” Matt said. “Calling people, telling them about yourself, asking for donations.”
Jimmy still looked so tired, like he wasn’t even sure what day it was, and I felt like he would’ve agreed to anything at that point just to end the conversation. He nodded at Matt and said, “Whatever you say, boss.”
—
The very next morning, Matt set up Jimmy in the office with a list of contacts and gave him a pep talk about fund-raising. “You can do this,” Matt said. “You’ll be great. Just remember—this is about money. If we want to compete in any real way, we need to raise money.”
Matt sounded so energized that I half expected him to start jumping around, like a coach trying to psyche his team up before a big game.
For about a week, Jimmy did as Matt said and spent hours calling people and asking for their money, saying the same thing over and over again. And then one day, he started to complain. “I don’t come across well on the phone,” Jimmy said. “I’m better in front of people. I need to get out there.”
“You also need money,” Matt said.
“So set up some fund-raisers where I can meet people face to face. I’m going crazy spending all this time on the phone.”
To Jimmy, Matt said, “Look, I know this is frustrating. But it’s hard to raise money for a down-ballot race—you know that. We just need to keep plugging away at it. I promise I’ll think of some ways to get you out there.” And then later, to me, he said, “Who does he think is going to come to these fund-raisers? He thinks we have hundreds of people ready to come to a black-tie dinner and drop thousands of dollars? Most people don’t even know his name. I don’t know who he thinks he is.”
This was the first disagreement that Matt and Jimmy had during the campaign. (Or at least the first serious one, that wasn’t about what time to leave for a trip or what radio station to listen to in the car.) And it never got resolved—they continued to argue about how much time Jimmy should spend on the phone, every day, both of them repeating themselves, the conversation going in circles. Their fights were so predictable—like a rerun you’ve seen a million times before, except it wasn’t the least bit funny. And I started to notice how it changed things, how it made the air around us unpleasant, always.
—
When he wasn’t trying to raise money, Jimmy was traveling to south Texas to talk to people suffering from air pollution and to north Texas to talk about earthquakes. The traveling wasn’t just happening on the weekends now, it was all the time. “We need to reach as many people as we can,” Matt said. “We want them to feel heard.”
Ash and I went on these trips, for moral support and to help out, and Viv came along so Jimmy could hold her and look like a family man. We traveled so many places in the eight months before the election that I often woke up not knowing where we were. We were always packing and unpacking, taking the clothes out of our bags just to wash them and put them right back in. Every day was another city, sometimes two. Just when I was sure that I’d seen all of Texas, Matt would announce a new place we’d be going to—Azle, Reno, Arlington, Denton. There were times we drove four hours for a two-hour event and came back that same day.
Because Viv’s car seat was in the second row, I usually sat in the way back by myself. But I didn’t mind. It was sort of peaceful there, and I usually just stared out the window and let my mind wander, watching all of Texas go right past me.
—
At the end of May, Candace Elroy won the Republican nomination for railroad commissioner, narrowly beating out the Tea Party candidate in the runoff. Elroy had spent the past twenty years as a consultant for the oil industry, and they were willing to give her gobs of money to get her onto the Railroad Commission. When we found out she won, Matt closed his eyes and said softly, “Fuck,” which was somehow more disturbing than if he’d screamed or hit something.
Right away, she started out-fund-raising Jimmy, almost to a laughable degree, and while it was probably impossible to even think about catching up with her, Matt was determined to try. One day, after reading about a fund-raiser she’d held, Matt looked like he was going to cry. “Strangers are giving her money without her even having to ask for it,” he said, and I imagined Candace Elroy walking down the street while random people threw cash at her.
Matt was haunted by Candace Elroy. He thought about her more than he thought about anything or anyone else, all day, every day. Once, I swore he said her name while he was sleeping.
Most of it was about the money—Elroy had enough to hire a large staff. She had a scheduler, a campaign manager, a fund-raiser, a speechwriter. For Jimmy, Matt was all of those things put together, and his only help came from Katie and from other volunteers. He was outnumbered. Each time Elroy hired new people, Matt pored over their bios—they all had years of experience in their fields. After she hired the speechwriter, Matt looked defeated. He closed his eyes and shook his head. “I can’t compete with that,” he said. “I don’t know how to do any of this shit. I’m just making it up as I go. Fund-raising is the only thing I really had experience in, and that was for a presidential election. It’s not the same at all. The rest of this? Managing a whole campaign? Writing speeches and press releases? I have no idea what I’m doing.”