One Hell of a Drug - A Florida Man looks at Taylor Swift's new song: Florida

It was an early morning.

 My alarm rang at 3:45am for a quick up and back to Tampa.  Barely pulling myself together, I notice a text from my good buddy Mark Baldwin.   It was a song.

This is not unique. Mark and I share music back and forth all the time. What was unique was the text came through at like 1:00am, fairly late for my famously early to bed friend. The title of the song: Florida.  I started to respond: Oh yeah, love that Modest Mouse song.   

The four drive south started like hundreds before it - in the fog on US 319, a quiet and largely abandoned highway at that hour.

 You can beat the heat if you beat the charges too...They said I was a cheat, I guess it must be true.  And my friends all smell like weed or little babies...And this city reeks of driving myself crazy

There is no coffee until Perry.  Just me and the deer, who turn the dark road into an obstacle course. 

 Little did you know your home's really only...A town you're just a guest in. So you work your life away just to pay...For a time-share down in Destin

Definitely not Modest Mouse, but I’ll admit, the song bops a bit.  I listen to it again.  And again.   

Florida.  Is one hell of a drug 

Taylor Swift’s new song with Florence Welch.  It is good.  And it feels pretty spot on - especially that line.

I listened to it again, and again.  And once the hour was mostly civil, I sent it to several Florida Men and Florida Women whose opinion I respect.  

“Florida has never been so seen” said a friend.  “Really on the nose,” said another, with someone else calling it the perfect “marriage of Carl Hiassan and Jimmy Buffett.”

 “How the hell did she capture Florida so perfectly good gracious” texted another buddy.  

“Closest I ever felt to being John Meyer” responded yet another, referencing Swift’s song indicting her one-time boy friend.

But did she really, as one friend and observer said, “nail the essence of the place.”

Well, let's examine.

Here’s what Swift herself said about the song:  

“I’m always watching Dateline.  People have these crimes that they commit; where do they immediately skip town and go to? They go to Florida. They try to reinvent themselves, have a new identity, blend in. I think when you go through a heartbreak, there’s a part of you that thinks, ‘I want a new name. I want a new life. I don’t want anyone to know where I’ve been or know me at all.’ And so that was the jumping off point. Where would you go to reinvent yourself and blend in? Florida.”

Since the first Europeans stepped foot here – and at an accelerated pace, since WWII, Florida has been a destination of escape.  Some 2/3rds of Florida residents were not born here – and roughly a quarter weren’t even born in the United States. 

Some, like my parents, came here to escape the cold.   

For many, we are a lifelong aspiration:  warm climate/low tax reward for a life of productive work somewhere cold and gray – for others, it is the Siren Song of the ocean, a tropical life untempered by the challenges of life in the real world - a place of true escape.

And increasingly, our shores are the modern day Ellis Island, the 21st century version of the “sea-washed sunset gate” of the golden door.  In many ways, Florida is that new New Colossus - the first step into a new life in America. 

When Nikole and I went to Alaska in 2009, someone there described the state as a foreign country that just happened to be populated by American citizens.  To some extent, I think you could say the same thing about Florida. 

In fact, for the first couple hundred years of Florida’s colonization, you had to really want to escape it all to come here, because coming here meant battling swamps, snakes, heat, yellow fever, and malaria,   It wasn’t until John Gorrie bought us air conditioning,  Dr. Porter invented mosquito control, and Henry Flagler brought the railroad that Florida was a place any normal person would want to live.  Or at least any sane one.

But like our much colder brethren to the north, despite these advancements, as well as Eisenhower’s interstates, we continue to draw a population looking to slip away from the norms of life that exist in most places. 

Well, me and my ghosts, wе had a hell of a time. Yes, I'm hauntеd, but I'm feeling just fine…no one asks any questions here…

Bob Graham once said to me the key to understanding Florida is not just to know where they came from, but to know why they came here.  Graham would often point to the mythical couple from Cincinnati - they’ve lived here for a decade, although “they still take the Cincinnati paper” and still care about the place they came from, but they chose Florida because they were tired of being cold, didn’t want to pay income taxes and basically to be left alone to enjoy their retirement. 

I used to think of Florida as a microcosm of America - but over time, I realized that was wrong.  Instead, we are a reflection of all of the places people came from, as well as the hopes and dreams of why people came here – the new life they have established here, and maybe the demons they left behind.  

Little did you know...Your home's really only the town you'll get arrested. So you pack your life away just to wait out...The shitstorm back in Texas

Florida is not a place.  Michigan is a place.  Texas is a place.  New York is a place.  Almost every state is a place.  But not Florida.

Most states in America conjure up an archetype —the steel worker in Pennsylvania, the farmer in Iowa, the outdoorsman of Colorado, the gold-covered gambler in Nevada, or just the New Yorker.  

Florida is more of a geographic distinction - an oddly shaped piece of land that captures 22 million or so people from all walks of life under a single flag – but in many ways, that is about all that connects us.   Places like Liberty County and Dade County are so culturally different they might as well be on two separate continents, if not planets.   Even driving across Florida’s famed I-4 corridor, the state can feel very different in just 10 or 20 miles.

Part of this is a function of how people got here.  The old saying in Florida is to go south, you go north.  Midwesterners tended to move down I-75 and end up on the west coast.  East coasters did the same down I-95.   Puerto Ricans flocked to Orlando to fill service jobs, creating a pipeline that continues to reshape the community to this day.  And Miami, well, it's Miami. 

But what do you think of when you think of Florida?

Florida Man. 

No doubt, if Swift got the inspiration from Dateline, she definitely had Florida Man on her mind when writing the lyrics.

But what’s interesting about Florida Man - Florida Man isn’t a uniquely Florida thing.  Keep in mind, as mentioned earlier, most people here came from elsewhere.  Florida Man, more than likely, was your neighbor in Kankakee, IL, or Alpena, Michigan.  He just ended up here.  And that is what we are - what we have largely ever been:  a collection of the other…a collection of the escaped.

Put 22 million or so people inside of a state that still has a fair amount of wilderness, marry it with heat and alcohol, and  there will be ‘interesting’ interactions between wildlife, gators, bears, pythons, etc., and people.  Also, just put 22 million people anywhere, and you are going to have characters – but put 22 million people in a state where people seek to escape – and well, you get the picture.

(*Add to it Florida’s robust public records laws, and everyone will know about said incidents)

I need to forget, so take me to Florida...I've got some regrets, I'll bury them in Florida. Tell me I'm despicable, say it's unforgivable.  

What a crash, what a rush, fuck me up, Florida

If you think about the above and why people come here, the state has a healthy libertarian streak.  The state’s first flag, a ghastly thing that was so ugly it only lasted about 2 hours before the legislature adopted a new flag had a small American flag in the corner, and 5 bars – blue, orange, red, white, and green, was adorned with the words “Let us Alone.”    

It is in the vein that the state has also had more than its fair share of charlatans and scam artists, thieves and felons, frauds, and imposters, quacks and felons.  After all, this is the state where a Russian mobster turned Miami strip club owner conspired with a high end car and boat dealer – introduced to him by the rapper Vanilla Ice – scammed Pablo Escobar into thinking he was buying a Russian sub.  

The line between fact and fiction can be blurry in the Sunshine State.

You can hide here. You can live here.  You can reinvent yourself here.

You can be anonymous here.  You can be a star here. 

You can chase dreams here.  You can hide from nightmares - or find new ones.

People have been burying regrets here since Ponce De Leon landed here in the 1500s.   It is a place where you can start anew.  

No one cares.  

Florida...Is one hell of a drug

I love this state because it is never dull.  It is in a constant state of dynamism - with a population that is both growing, and changing.  Part of the fun of Florida is you can never know it – it never stops long enough to allow one to master it.  It is a storyteller’s dream.

The population evolves and reloads.  Communities in places like Broward that even just two decades ago were nothing but retirees are now home to the adult children of first generation immigrants.   Downtown Tampa, a wasteland just a decade ago, is now one of the robust communities in America.  Jacksonville, the once tough, rusty and gritty city of my youth, is now one of the fastest growing job markets in America, and ranked one of the best places for young professionals to live.  

And the state is only getting more diverse every day, adding to the uniqueness of America’s most unique state.  I do hate how Florida has become a political symbol, and I hope over time that changes - not because of my political affiliation - but because part of what makes this place something is that is a place of dreams, of hope, of refuge, and has been for a long time for americans of all stripes.  As we seemingly lose everything into political corners, I truly hope we don’t lose this. 

Though I suspect like many a Florida fad, this too shall pass. But what won’t are the reasons people keep coming here.  She hasn’t slowed down since the first real post-war booms, and shows no signs of tiring.

Florida, she is, after all, one hell of a drug. 

Me and Bob

Note: I wrote this planning on publishing it on Bob's birthday last year and ended up setting it aside.  I went back to it the night he passed.  

Like all good Florida Men of a certain age, Bob Graham was a ubiquitous figure throughout my life – the Governor and Senator of my childhood, before as serving as the most prominent public figure of my early career.  

But despite his ever presence, other than a quick greeting, I didn’t meet Bob Graham until his time in public life was ending – and mine in the public light was just beginning.

In late 2003, a friend of mine asked me a favor - can we help build a crowd for an announcement that Senator Graham will be making after a workday at Lincoln High School in Tallahassee?   Of course, I said, and off to Lincoln a bunch of us went, to watch Senator Graham finish a day helping rip up the old track to make way for a new one around the football field.   

As we all gathered, Senator Graham climbs out of the tractor he was piloting, walks over, and announces he wasn’t running for re-election.  He was walking away after 38 years in public life, on his own terms.  I walked away sad this guy I admired was leaving office. 

A few weeks later, that same friend calls:  “Senator Graham would like to have lunch with you next week when he’s in town”

Me?  I’m just a lowly 29-year old Democratic press flack.  Why in the hell would Bob Graham want to have lunch with me, I thought, before obviously accepting this invitation.

At the announced time, I wandered over to Po Boys (now Chuck’s Fish) in Tallahassee, walking in as Senator Graham did.  After he spent a good 20 minutes working the room, we sit down – and he starts grilling me:  what were we working on in the legislature – how we were communicating with voters and the press – who were the rising stars he should know – and most importantly, how can he help, all while scribbling in that ever-present notebook – while I am wondering whether he is taking notes about our conversation,  or writing “wasted my time having lunch with a moron today.”

A few weeks later, he called the office - causing quite an internal stir when he asked to talk to me, and once he left office these occasional calls turned into semi-regular conversations on various issues in the state over breakfast at Jacobs in downtown Tallahassee, or coffee at his townhouse just down the street, typically just him and me – and of course the notebook. 

In 2006, he helped me recruit, then supported our candidates for the legislature, and in 2008, when I was offered the job to run then Senator Obama’s campaign in Florida, he was one of the first calls of congratulations – a call that was quickly followed up by a several hour Friday night taco dinner near our office in Ybor City.  

That was one of the few conversations where he did nearly all of the talking.  He laid out very specifically all the reasons he thought previous campaigns in Florida had either won or lost, and gave me invaluable advice on navigating the politics of politics of Florida, as well as advice on leading a team.   It was the kind of counsel you could only get from someone who had won 5 statewide elections.

It is one of my fondest memories of him, in part because it took place in a taco joint – in Ybor City – on a Friday night – with Bob Graham.  And since he hadn't been out of office long, he was still a fairly recognizable face.

Just to set this scene – Bob is in his khakis, some kind of neatly pressed plaid oxford shirt, and a blazer.  Always a blazer.  Meanwhile, I probably looked like I hadn’t slept in three days because I am fairly certain I hadn’t.  

As we enjoyed our tacos, lateish night taco-seekers started coming over to say “holy shit (or some other descriptor) - you are bob graham, followed by fill-in-the blank (you came to my middle school/wrote my dad a note/worked with my mom on a work day/my grandfather loves you).  Seemingly everyone who walked in that night had a story.  It didn’t matter what someone was wearing, what they looked like, or that night, their state of inebriation, Bob took his time with everyone.  Had selfies been a thing in those days, there is no doubt those images would have been memorable! 

Staffing Bob Graham was an absolute nightmare for this exact reason.  When you are staffing a principal, your basic job is to get someone from point A to B then to C as efficiently as possible.  But the problem with Bob - if getting from A to B meant passing 100 people – if 100 people wanted a word with him (and God help you if you met somone he had been on a workday with), he’d take time for all 100 individually – and take down their name, and their address to follow up.  And it didn’t matter who was waiting for him - whoever he was talking to was the most important person in the world. 

Bob was invaluable to us – and to me in 2008, as he was again in 2012.  We talked often about strategy, politics, and the state.  If I didn’t reach out frequently enough, I knew what number would soon pop up on the phone.  He knew the right questions to ask to get me thinking about the right things.  But more importantly to me, he was unfailingly supportive, while at the same time, not being a burden.  If he could say yes to our asks, he did.  And I knew he loved those few moments when he could hop in front of 10 or 20,000 people, where he'd always get a well-deserved folk hero's welcome.  

By the end of the 2012 cycle, I was physically and emotionally spent.  I had worked on 5 consecutive statewide efforts – some years spending more nights away from home than at home, with 2012 being especially taxing.  I needed a break – and announced that I was stepping back from politics to pursue a few things that would allow me to start to have some semblance of a normal life.   

The morning after my announcement, I was out for a run and my phone rang - “Steve, Hi, it's Bob Graham.  I understand you are taking some time away from politics, but I just have one favor:  My daughter Gwen is thinking about running for Congress, it would mean a lot if you weould talk to her, maybe give her some guidance?”

Damn. I knew what this meant.

Yes sir.  Of course.  10 minutes later, still trying to finish my run, Gwen called. I was out of the game for an entire 24 hours.

Over the next decade of Gwen’s campaigns and public service, I got to see Bob in a whole new light:  Bob the supportive father.  He glowed watching her shine.  It was truly something to see.  I’ll come back to this.

There are so many wonderful and at times funny political memories:  traveling with Bob when he was campaigning for others – learning that he had this encyclopedic knowledge of lunch spots around Florida and specifically, who had good specials on what days. Or watching him work a rope line - that for him was more like a reunion with friends from all eras of life.   One time, he spent so long out there I had to had to go fish him away to keep him from being left behind from President Obama's soon to depart motorcade!

Then of course, there are the personal ones:  getting educated at their family farm about the mechanics of cow breeding, in the most antiseptic Bob Graham way ever, to watching him jokingly chew someone out for getting potatoes instead of grits at a breakfast diner known for its grits, to listening to him and Adele tell colorful and often hilarious Jimmy Buffett stories, as we worked on his statement the morning after his friend of 40 years died. 

But for all his strengths, I believe his true super power was his ability to listen.  He may have had a degree from Harvard, but his real education came from the people of Florida, one person at a time.  He wanted to learn, and he believed everyone he came in contact with was someone he could learn from.  

In 2014, during Gwen’s first campaign, we were attacked on something based on a note that Bob had written to Gwen, which we learned the Republicans had dug up in his archives.  The next day, I drove to Gainesville and went through all the same boxes – finding the offending note (which was hardly offending), but also finding in those boxes, a remarkable window into Bob.  

Yes, his Senate papers at UF have memos and notes related to his work, but the vast majority of those papers are his correspondence to and from everyday Floridians.  Go ask for his papers and what you will get are boxes and boxes of boxes of letters.   Letters from Presidents, letters from foreign leaders, but more importantly, letters from people from every walk of life.

People wrote him – or stopped him in public to tell them their hopes, their fears, and their ideas.   He jotted down those interactions in his notebooks, and not only did he write everyone back, every one of those letters, at some level, was personalized,  a genuine acknowledgement that he heard them (though he did often recycle a very Bob Graham line “It was wonderful to see you at XXX.  I am confident if I spent a lifetime at XXX airport/XXX restaurant, I would meet everyone alive”).    He took something from every one of those interactions – and each one molded how he saw his state, his country, and his place in it.    

The last folder I found  included a series of polls from his last race.  On the eve of his fifth statewide race, Florida voters were asked if they thought he was an honest and trustworthy man.  67% said yes – to only 9% who said no.  There isn’t a politician on the planet who could point to those kinds of numbers.  I doubt we will ever see anything like that again, at least in my lifetime.

I saw Bob for the last time about six months ago. To be honest, I was worried I’d wake up to bad news, regretting never having the chance to say thank you.  Thankfully, Mrs. Graham was kind enough to allow me to visit them in Gainesville to say my peace. 

While time had taken its toll, he looked good, and after I thanked him for all he had done for me, like every other conversation we ever had, he started asking me the questions – about politics, about Florida, about my family, and about the work I was doing.  He was as interested and curious as the day we sat down at Po Boys, some 20 years earlier.  His body might have been waning, but his love for this place we call home was as solid as ever, as was his core belief in the promise that an educated citizenry could deliver change.  

I don’t know why Bob showed a fondness towards me, but I am blessed that he did.  He believed that you can find common ground if you to have honest conversations and create the space for agreement (“Steve, campaigns might be run in the red zone, but you have to govern between the 40s” is something he said to me once), that you can disagree without being disagreeable, and that you can succeed in public life by being a decent person.  And he made me better by pushing me to ask harder questions, to take on bigger challenges, and frankly, because I didn’t ever want to disappoint him. 

Gwen always says of her Dad, simply:  “he is just the best.”   And he was.  The best of all of us.  He was unquestionably one of the greatest and most consequential individuals our state has ever seen, but his real legacy was that he was an even better human. 

I knew it was the last time I would see him, and I suspect he did too.  Towards the end of that last conversation, right before I said goodbye, I mentioned that I was starting again to get burned out by politics.  He stopped me. 

Whatever Gwen wants to do, you’ll help her?

Of course sir. 

I am heartbroken for Mrs. Graham.  In addition to being the epitome of grace and class, she was Bob’s fiercest defender and protector.  Her fingerprints on this state are everywhere, and she loved his work as much as he did.  Adele has been nothing but kind to Nikole and I for as long as we have known them.   We are both deeply saddened by his passing, and know how much he meant not just to Adele, but to all of his kids, grandkids, and extended family.

And of course, Gwen, I wish I knew the magic words.  I’ve lost my father, so I get it.  All I can say is I wish for a moment, you could have seen what it was like to stand on our side - next to your Dad, watching him watch you as you shined.  Words can not describe just how proud of you he was.  You are the best reflection of him. 

Godspeed sir.  Thank you for your service.  Thank you for your friendship.

BETH MATUGA Guest Blog: How We (Actually) Won HD35

Steve note: Beth Matuga is the general consultant for the Florida House Democratic Campaign Committee's District 35 special election victory.  More important to me, she a dear friend and is one of my favorite co-members of the rational, results-oriented wing of the Florida Democratic Party.  This is her story - and I am happy to let her borrow my blog to tell it. 

How We (Actually) Won HD35

Preamble

Florida Democrats, I know things are bad and have been for a while. I’ve been at this since 2000, so I’ve seen the good, the bad, and the ugly. Most of it’s been ugly, but there have been bright spots. I’m not hijacking Steve’s blog to tell you about the bad or the ugly. (That’s a book/my retirement plan.) Let’s talk instead about our recent victory in House District 35 and how we actually won this race. Spoiler alert: it was money.

But first, why am I qualified to write about this? Aside from my 23 year prison term working Democratic politics in Florida, I’m currently the general consultant for the Florida House Democratic Campaign Committee, the artist formerly known as House Victory. 

Isn’t our new seal pretty?

For the last 17 years I have also taught graduate courses in political fundraising and campaign finance at FSU in the Master’s of Applied American Politics & Policy program. Teaching has turned out to be fulfilling in a way my political work has not, and I am grateful every day for the opportunity. If you’re a young person reading this, and are interested in working in politics, please reach out!

I spent my thirties working on Florida State Senate races for some incredible leaders, during which time we went from 12 to 17 members, the closest to parity we’ve been in a long while. We’re now back in a super-minority in the Senate - as we are in the House.  Though I am tired and old, I simply can’t sit back and watch us cede a permanent - in both chambers. We can claw our way out of this like we did last decade, but it’s going to take, well, a decade. And it’s going to take doing a lot of things that aren’t glamorous, fun or make folks a ton of money. Sorry.

So the purpose of this blog is to explain a little about how we won HD35 and all the not-fun things it takes to do that five more times in November. Because that’s my job: we have to flip another 5 state House seats (and now defend Tom Keen and our other incumbents) this November in order to end the Republican supermajority in the state House. We can do it, or else I wouldn’t be wasting my time or other people’s money. 

Background

I have very rarely been lucky in this work, but I got really lucky with my current House Democratic Leader, Fentrice Driskell. She’s in charge of the Florida House Democratic Campaign Committee (FHDCC). It’s her responsibility to raise the funds for and organize the political efforts to defend incumbent House Democratic members and grow our numbers out of the superminority. I want to be clear: her job sucks. She not only has to lead a caucus, hold down a day job, run a multi-million dollar political operation, run her own campaign…you get the picture. I’ve worked for about a dozen House and Senate leaders and I’m here to tell you: this is not a job you take for the glamour.

She’s also breaking caucus fundraising records left and right. I’ve been around a long time so I know traditionally how much caucus operations raise. For example, she raised $1 million more during the calendar year 2023 as any previous House caucus operation ever. We’re on track to continue this fundraising and you may say well, isn’t that just a pittance compared to Republicans? Yes. But bear with me.

Mechanics of the Race

To dive right in, the FHDCC - which is not the FDP, not the DECs, not the Tom Keen campaign, not any other outside organizations, though they were all wonderful partners - spent $1.2m on the special election in House District 35. If this isn’t the single largest spend on a Florida State House Democrat in a special election, I don’t know what is.

Because Leader Driskell got an extended leadership term due to the unfortunate departure of the previous leader, she had a golden opportunity: She can build a strong, battle-tested and stable caucus operation with professional staff and durable infrastructure. We were raising money the day after the 2022 election, which, I assure you, was not a walk in the park. I am honored that Leader Driskell asked me to come back to caucus work, and grateful the young, smart, kind kids at the FHDCC put up with this old lady.

Said nice kids and old lady. FHDCC 2024 Cycle Prospectus.

The FHDCC was neutral in a competitive Democratic primary in HD35, but we weren’t doing nothing. Within days of the special election being called, the FHDCC had a voter contact program running in House District 35. We also had an ready-made campaign team for Tom, composed of some of our most well-respected, seasoned Florida political veterans whom I’m proud to call friends. 

…and that’s exactly what it did! FHDCC 2024 Cycle Prospectus.

The goal of the program was to close the vote-by-mail gap that we identified early on.  A few years ago, Republicans passed laws to remove folks from VBM rolls every two years, meaning there would be a ton of Democrats expecting a VBM ballot that would never come.  In a low turnout special election…over the holidays…yikes!

We went from a roughly negative 3 point Democratic disadvantage at the start of the program to, at its height, an 11 point Democratic advantage. This paid program ultimately knocked on more than SIXTY-EIGHT THOUSAND doors. Yes, I said 68,000. That is not a typo. I want to point out some features of this program that are very different (with the exception of my Senate field programs in the last decade, which were similar) from the way Democrats have been doing field operations for the last 10-15 years:

1. It was a PAID canvass. Volunteer field efforts MUST be supplemented by paid, accountable, electorally reliable programs.

2. It was done through the party apparatus of the FHDCC, which means it was a partisan contact program. Unlike non-profit organizations, we can say things to voters like, “I’m a Democrat, and I want you to vote for this Democrat.” This matters. 

3. It was managed in-house, not farmed out to third-party organizations who do not have the same accountability.

4. It was targeted, narrow and discrete in its focus. The program was designed to close a VBM gap on the margins, not flip the entire district by itself. It was part of a holistic campaign that was fully-funded by the FHDCC in all other ways.

5. It is replicable in our targeted districts with appropriate funding.

Internal FHDCC tracking chart of total VBM returns in HD35, January 16, 2024.

And speaking of the rest of the campaign, the FHDCC’s theory of the race hinged on the following:

• Tested, potent, properly sequenced messaging on abortion and property insurance to persuade NPAs 

• VBM and early-vote front-loading of Dem voters to absorb the traditional Republican election-day onslaught (no surprise Rs want to destroy VBM, is it?)

• Parity or close to it on most mass-media communications, especially television

All these things are Very Expensive (Steve added the emphasis - you don't win elections on the cheap), particularly TV.  Because of Leader Driskell’s strong fundraising, and a professional staff who were ready to go, we weren’t caught dead in the water. Unlike most off-years, we were better funded than (I think) anyone thought we were, and (I think) we caught a lot of people by surprise.

And as it turned out, our theory of the campaign was right. NPAs broke HARD for Tom Keen (by some estimates as high as 70% which…woof) and while Republicans had eaten through our VBM and early-vote lead by noon on election day, the NPAs and whatever GOP crossover vote was enough for Tom Keen to prevail by 2.6%. I had personally predicted the margin at 2% but I won’t complain.

So we, the FHDCC, spent about $1.2m and we estimate that the Republicans spent somewhere between $2m and $2.5m. Obviously they don’t share these figures with me so we have to track it on media buys and guesstimates. My friends on the other side are welcome to correct me! In any scenario, we were grossly outspent as usual. But we weren’t obliterated. I’ve been saying this for years: Democrats in Florida can win when being outspent. We can win when being outspent 2:1 or 2.5:1. Our message is better and voters like us if we can afford to communicate. But we CAN’T win being outspent 4:1. All the hoping and trying and praying and wanting won’t change this fact. 

We MUST maintain reasonable parity in paid comms to win races. Hot takes from online commentators attributing this victory to anything other than reasonable spending parity are just wrong. And that misconception is how we got in this fix, guys. We can’t social media our way out of superminorities. We have to raise and spend our way out. (Steve Note:  See Also - Twitter isn't Real Life)

(Additional Steve Note:  I am going to repeat Beth's statement: We can’t social media our way out of superminorities. We have to raise and spend our way out.)

So, yeah, this one seat is great and as usual, success has many fathers. For the FHDCC and Leader Driskell’s efforts, this is proof of concept for our larger mission: breaking the Republican supermajority by flipping 5 more seats. How will we do that? Well, turns out I’m gonna spend my forties in much the same was I spent my thirties:

• Expand our in-house field program to our targeted flip districts. This is also Very Expensive and different from how we having been doing voter contact, but absolutely necessary.

• Defend our incumbents, including Tom Keen!

• Keep our focus narrow, which requires incredible institutional discipline. There ARE such things as unwinnable races, sorry not sorry. We cannot be tempted to expand the goals of this program beyond flipping the 5 seats required to break the supermajority, which is our Prime Directive. When we allow ourselves to indulge in fever dreams, like flipping a chamber in one cycle, we create funding stream fragmentation that prevents us from reaching the spending parity described above, thus endangering the races that are actually winnable. Are you listening, billionaires?

• Just for funsies…HD35 is the NINTH best seat on our map by partisanship. Flipping 5 seats is a clear and reasonable goal.

• Raise a metric shit ton of money. Y’all can do the math. We will need A Lot for the Very Expensive Things. If there’s anyone who can do it, it’s Fentrice Driskell. (And maybe I’ll help a little.) We expect our Republican counterparts to raise $30m - that we can see - in comparison. Fun!

The Big Takeaways

Tom Keen’s victory in HD35 and the FHDCC’s efforts comport with a larger national trend we’ve been tracking in 2023. Back in September, the New York Times pointed out that in 21 of 27 special legislative elections around the country, Democrats have outperformed President Biden by an average of 7 points.

In HD35, the swing from DeSantis in 2022 to Keen was 13 points. Do I think every state legislative seat in Florida will swing by 13 or even 7 points? No. Do I think we will be able to maintain the spending ratio in 5 seats that we broke the bank to achieve in HD35? Probably also no. But NPAs breaking this hard in both HD35 and the less-discussed special election in December in HD118, means that NPAs are fed up and we just proved that if Democrats can communicate with them, we can persuade them and turn them out. 

Messaging

Republicans have also generously handed us a potent and unique combination of pocketbook and social issues that combine into their very own kryptonite: abortion and property insurance. I can scarcely remember a more effective one-two punch for NPAs and some GOP voters. This is, literally, all Democratic candidates in Florida should be talking about from now until November 5. Don’t get clever, Dems. Don’t overthink it. Abortion and property insurance. Say it with me. No, not that. No, also not that. We don’t need a 14-point plan. Abortion and property insurance! 

Impact Research polling memo dated November 28, 2023.

National Atmospherics

One unique feature of special elections is that they are entirely unmoored from the top of the ticket. I am reminded of Margaret Good and Annette Taddeo’s special elections last decade and how those wins and HD35 prove that Florida Democrats can succeed in a vacuum. We have a pulse down here, national donors!

In 2020, the Biden campaign made a strategic decision that they could win the presidency without Florida, and they were right. But the direct consequence of that decision was a catastrophic cratering of turnout in Florida in 2022, and I’m not sure the arithmetic is the same for the Biden campaign in 2024. I am sure my friend Steve Schale is making sure they’re paying attention to these trends, because the Florida electorate is clearly not in the same mindset it was in 2020 and 2022. 

Forced Focus

Another feature of special elections is how everyone in the Democratic ecosystem is forced to focus on one thing. There’s no arguing over which races are priorities or even winnable. This is one reason we had so many helpful partners in this race, and we appreciate each and every one of them. One of our biggest infrastructure challenges as Democrats across the country and Florida in particular (with lots of donors and lots of special interest groups) is the fragmentation of our efforts across different entities and the difficulty it causes with coordination.

It’s no secret that I’m a big supporter of hard-side, partisan electoral efforts and I won’t belabor this point except to say: when everyone is forced to row the boat in the same direction, we all get there faster.

Partisan Voter Contact

Relatedly, we must reinvest in partisan voter contact efforts. Republican voters now outnumber Democrats by 700,000 and there’s no reason to think that figure won’t be 1,000,000 by November. We need Democrats to contact, register, persuade and turnout other Democrats. To fix our Democratic “brand” problem, we must be able to say to a voter at a door, “I’m a Democrat and I want you to be one, too.” Party entities are the only vehicles through which we can legally do this and must be funded to carry out this vital task.

Leadership & Money

Finally, leadership matters! Money matters! Fentrice Driskell has improved the culture of the Hous Democratic Caucus, instituted remarkable infrastructure improvements, stabilized a program in repeated disarray, raised record sums of money and just won a special election no one expected. Her work reshaping Florida has only just begun. I think we have shown a path forward for Democrats in Florida in 2024 and I hope this blog post can help clarify some takeaways. The FHDCC has proved that we can achieve our goal of breaking the Republican supermajority in the House in 2024, and we'd love your support in this effort.

Closing

People frequently ask me why I continue to work in Democratic politics in Florida, and I’m pretty self-aware that these 23 years haven't amounted to much. But this work is important and important to me. People’s lives hang in the balance. Leaving aside that I have no other marketable skills, my will to live is refreshed by wins like HD35, which show a clear picture of how and why Democrats can win in Florida, if only we rededicate ourselves to fundamentals. They are unglamorous, difficult and expensive, but so am I. 

Great thanks to Steve Schale, who has been a stalwart supporter of party efforts, caucus operations and Democrats in general (you may have heard of this guy named Obama?) 

 You can yell at me on Twitter @bethmatuga or email me beth@bethmatuga.com. Thanks for reading!

(NOTE FROM STEVE - YOU SHOULD FOLLOW BETH -- AND YOU SHOULD YELL AT HER!) 

Thank you Lucy

The speaker couldn’t have been more clear:  “If Lucy Morgan calls, take a message, do not talk to her, get off the phone as fast as possible, and call me.”

That was the clear message this then 21-year-old took home from the 1996 Florida Democratic Party’s campaign manager bootcamp –in fact,  it is literally the only thing I remember from those two days.  If Lucy Morgan was calling, something bad had happened to your boss - or was about to happen to you – or both, and you needed a professional to help you out of the mess you were clearly in.  Talking to her would only make it worse.  

Driving the fear of God into each of us kids wasn’t without merit – after all, Lucy, the then Tallahassee bureau chief of the state’s largest newspaper, wasn’t just any reporter.  She was the first woman to win a Pulitzer Prize for investigative reporting and had even gone to jail to protect a source in a story.  Her bio reads like a prize-fighter’s resume of defeated foes --- though in Lucy’s case, it was the careers of bad politicians that hung on her wall. 

So, just imagine the utter fear streaming through my veins when this kid, who frankly had zero business managing one of the state’s most expensive and consequential state house races, answered the phone in the campaign office late one night about ten days before the election…

“Is this Steve Schale?  Hi, this is Lucy Morgan.” 

I don’t remember what I said – but I remember what I felt: “Oh shit.”

At that moment, I was sure my exceptionally short career was over – even if I didn’t know why.  

I’ve been a political hack for nearly 3 decades, and a flack for 20+ years of that time.  Over that time, I’ve spoken to hundreds, if not thousands of reporters – many of whom I now consider friends.  But the way I think about dealing with the media – and frankly the process in general, was heavily influenced by the first two reporters I dealt with in my professional life -- two legendary women from the same era:  Margo Pope of the St. Augustine Record and Lucy Morgan.   

Both were doggedly tough – their careers coming of age at a time when they were true trailblazing pioneers – women breaking story after story in a decidedly male-driven industry.  Respect for them was always due, though respect from them had to be earned, and was never a guarantee.  And as happens as one gets older, I’ve come to understand just how important both were to the development of my career.

I knew Margo before I got into my career.  She had been active at several points of my youth, so when I made the transition from actual kid to kid source/subject/flack, she was often gracious (though quite tough), and took the time to help me understand what was news, and what wasn’t – and to tell me when I was doing something dumb and foolish.  

Where Margo was familiar, Lucy had been built up to mythical status, this person I did not know – probably never wanted to know, because she could end your career simply by calling you.  Heck, in the mind of this 21 year old, she could probably end it just by knowing your name.

So when that call did come – and I heard that name on the other end of the phone, the anxious stutter I have fought since youth kicked right in.  Clearly sensing the fear and panic in my voice she rescues me – “Steve, you aren’t in trouble.  I just need to know X” – and of course, X was just a routine press question about spending in our race.  Certainly nothing that would end my career in dramatic above the fold fashion.

We went on to win that race, and not long after, she wandered into our Tallahassee office.  Hardly the sword-wielding figure in my mind, Lucy came across like everyone’s wonderful Aunt – albeit an Aunt with a Pulitzer Prize for taking down corrupt politicians.   She took the time to thank me – a kid – for my help on that story – wanted to meet my boss, who had won a seat most thought he would lose.  

Over the next few years, I got to know her a bit – mostly as an aide setting up her visits with my boss, but occasionally in the journalist role.  She’d come by and see where he was on issues or ask about the politics of our district.  Her presence at my desk still put the hair up on my back, but I began to understand what made her good – she was super competitive, knew literally everyone in that building, which meant she knew more than anyone.

In 2002, I joined Doug in Tallahassee in a new role – him as the Democratic Leader, and me as his Communications Director.  I had zero training to be a flack – and like most things in my career, probably had no business in the job when I first got it.  I was at best a rising political hack, hardly a seasoned press secretary.

I hadn’t been in the job long and Lucy paid me a visit.  She didn’t stay long – but offered that she thought Doug was smart to bring me over, and thought I would do fine in the job.  Then she went on to lay out the terms of our relationship:  She would ask questions, my job was to answer them – or get answers to them.  If I was responsive to her inquiries or desires to talk to certain members, we’d be fine.  If I wasn’t – or if I scooped her to another reporter, she’d remember.  But one thing I could never do:  lie to her.  She’d figure it out, and she’d definitely remember.   

I broke that last rule once.  At the time, I didn’t think it was a big deal – she had learned of a meeting she thought she had a right to cover (she didn’t), and rather than me telling her to pound sand, I told her there was no meeting.  Frankly, I had panicked a bit, not used to being in that situation before. 

But of course, she found out.  I never made that mistake twice.  Spin all you want, she reminded me - that’s your job – but don’t lie – don't ever lie -- it is the only way we can have the trust required in the flack/journo relationship.  It is a lesson that to this day I mention when I get a chance to talk with aspiring hacks in college classes.

As happens in a career, time passes by.  I got to know her a little better over a lot more chats  – and I got to know her a little better as a person.  But unlike with the journalists who were closer to my age at the time, I could never break this sense that she was this legend, and in her mind, I was just some kid. 

Not long after the 2008 elections, Lucy was asked by what was then Campaigns and Elections Magazine, to create a list of the ten most influential Democrats and Republicans in Florida.  I ended up on her list.  

I called her – “Lucy, I am grateful, but not worthy of this by any means.  It is almost embarrassing considering the people not on this list.” 

Her response: “Listen Steve, I wasn’t being nice.  You earned a spot on that list, that is why you are there. That is the end of this discussion.”

It was easy then – and honestly still is – for me to struggle with my place in this town, and earning her respect meant something – it allowed me to have a sense of belonging, that maybe this kid from a small town, who doesn’t easily fit into the often hyper Type A world of politics and harbored a healthy imposter complex about it - that maybe I would be OK.  If Lucy Morgan - this titan who had blazed her own trail to greatness - if she thought I had made it, then maybe I should have more confidence about my own place. Far more tha my name on a list -- it was that which truly meant something to me.  

Years later, I tried to tell her the story of this moment in my life - and why it mattered -- and why she mattered, and in classic Lucy style, she basicallly told me to just shut my mouth!

When she retired formally (as we all learned, retirement was just a word to Lucy) – the Tampa Bay Times threw quite the party for her.  The state showed up – current and former statewide electeds, long lost legislators, the town’s power brokers, both old and new, Republican and Democratic alike, colleagues from all over – and at least one hack who she stopped in the hall to make sure he was coming.  I am not sure there is another person, journalist or not, who would have commanded an attendance like that.   But as a dear friend of mine said the other day about her, “she’s probably done more good for this state than everyone else over in that building, combined.”  The State of Florida bestows the “Great Floridian” distinction on the finest among us, and it seems like she’d be a perfect honoree. 

I heard the news a few weeks back that Lucy wasn’t doing well, and honestly, the prognosis wasn’t good. I sat down and wrote this the night I heard, and struggled with whether to share it then.  I chose not, because after all, this was Lucy Morgan, and time and time again, her adversaries learned going toe-to-toe with her was a bad idea.  I didn't want to be the guy betting against her. 

Sadly this was one adversary she couldn’t overcome. 

But I am grateful my journey crossed hers – grateful I got to learn from how she carried herself and handled her business, grateful she was there when I needed to learn, and there to encourage, when I needed that too, grateful she took a liking to me and let me beome her friend – and most importantly, grateful I never ended up in her crosshairs!   Even in the last few years, the hair on my arms would stand up a bit when I saw that name on my phone, or in my inbox. 

As former Florida Attorney General Richard Doran said tonight on Twitter after her passing was made public:  “Plain and Simple, she was the best this town ever saw.”  

There will never be another like her. 

Thank you Lucy.  Godspeed my friend. 

How we got here - Florida Democrats

I wrote this piece for Bulwark in early June 2023 about the down - then up -- then back down journey for Florida Democrats.  if you haven't read it there, you can here:

Anatomy of a Murder. 

Let's talk about Jacksonville...

Tuesday night was a big win for Donna Deegan in Jacksonville.  As is often the case when something happens in politics that conventional wisdom didn’t see happening, everyone tries to find the hidden meaning.  But sometimes the secret is -- to quote my GOP brother from another mother (and fellow First Coaster) Kevin Sweeny -- "well, maybe there is no secret at all."

But after a dozen or so press calls on Wednesday, I thought it might be useful to write down some thoughts. 

So, let’s get to the foundational reasons behind her win – at least as I see it, as an aging hack and Jaguars fan with a more than average rooting interest in Jacksonville.

1.     Duval County is not what you think it is, and by all standards is more Democratic than the state.

Just like some people are surpised to learn the first Thanksgiving in America was celebrated in Jacksonville -- decades before Plymouth Rock (with a meal of alligator, true Florida Man style), and others out there who were shocked to learn last year that Trevor Lawrence is good – really good – there are people who seem oddly surprised that a Democrat won in Duval County.

For example, some dude with a decent sized following on Twitter on Election Night tried to say this was as big as Republicans winning San Francisco or Boston.  As the kids would say, “tell me you know nothing about Jacksonville without telling me you know nothing about Jacksonville.”

Yes, Republicans have controlled the Mayor’s office for all but four years going back to when I was a kid, and yes, Ron DeSantis put a beating on Charlie Crist there in 2022.  

But neither of those things tell any kind of a story.  The last two competitive Mayors races – 2011 and 2015 (2019 was largely uncontested) had margins of D +1 (Brown 2011) and R +3 (Curry 2015)

And up the ballot, the average margin of the last four Presidential elections is R +0.25, with Biden winning by four in 2020 – and the last 3 before 2022 (2010, 2014, and 2008) is R +4, with Gillum winning by four in 2018.   And DeSantis’ margin of 11, while quite strong, was significantly less than his statewide margin.  

The point of this is Duval itself is competitive, and if you consider the 2022 margin to be an outlier – there is no reason to think a strong Democratic candidate can’t win. It was a huge win – a historic win -- but it is not a shocking win. 

2.     Donna Deegan was a tremendous candidate.

I grew up in the region, went to high school in Jacksonville, and have lived through enough horrific Jaguars seasons for several lifetimes.  Like everyone who calls Jacksonville home, for a huge chunk of my life, Donna Deegan has been a fixture – albeit on television.  I met Deegan’s now husband when I was in the 5^th grade, met her for first time as a teenager, and watched them both on TV for years.   In an era when local broadcast news was a key spoke of civic life, Deegan operated at the hub, a trusted voice. 

As a candidate, you couldn’t have asked for a better bio.  She grew up in Jacksonville, went to high school there (This Episcopal grad will forgive her for going to Bishop Kenny), spent 25 years on television, during which time she had a very public battle with cancer, then left television to go run a foundation that raises money to fight cancer.  Her brand isn’t as a Republican or Democratic candidate – rather, she is Donna Deegan. 

And this brand, frankly, was underappreciated by most.  While most observers questioned whether she could win enough crossover support, the truth is, I don’t believe there was a single public poll that ever had her losing this race, starting when she first got in. People had decided from the beginning they were comfortable with her as a political candidate because they were comfortable with her as a public citizen.  And it is this brand that allowed her to withstand a massive spending disadvantage and a months-long barrage of negative ads.  

One note to this – I don’t like to Monday morning QB races – I’ve lived them, and I understand that campaigns have a lot more information than the rest of us have – but one thing that surprised me:  I expected the Davis folks to run ads that we often call “permission structure” ads – ads that say to the voter in a roundabout way – hey, it is OK to like this person and still vote against them.   But they chose a far more coarse route, and that likely hardened her support - as it is very hard to convince people who like someone personally that they are suddenly something different than they think.  Anecdotally from friends over there, the contrast in style of ads seemed to make a difference - and that difference benefited Deegan (and yes, I have more than Democratic friends!).

3.     There was a change atmosphere in Jacksonville.

I am proud to call the current Mayor, Lenny Curry, a friend.  While we have political differences, I am grateful we've never let that get between us (The Jaguars Mafia bonds are strong).  But as is often the case after two terms, several polls I saw showed a desire for change in the city - a feeling i suspect was furthered by the tone of the race.  The Republican nominee came out of the Jacksonville political establishment.  Deegan was an outsider and community leader.  The contrast wasn’t difficult.

4.     Persuasion/Median Voter Theory/Etc. – It all still matters. 

There is this notion, particularly among twitter activists in my party, that no voter is moveable – that all Republicans will only vote Republican, and that it is fruitless to try to persuade them.

Donna Deegan is just the next in the line of people to crush that theory, and remind everyone that the median voter theory is very much alive and well.

If you had taken all labels off these two candidates, just looked at what they said on paper, you would have picked Deegan ten out of ten times as the candidate whose messaging was closest to the center.  While Davis ran hard to the right, she ran in a place that made it easy for unaffiliated voters to support her, and she gave space for Republicans to cross over.   And because of this, she was able to overcome a decent GOP advantage in terms of turnout. 

5.     Please stop trying to draw national conclusions on this race.

I know, I am a Democrat, so some of y’all think I should be screaming – “SEE DUVAL IS BLUEVAL – DEMOCRATS ARE GOING TO CRUSH EVERYONE!” but alas, that is simply as ridiculous as Miami Hurricane fans trying to argue “The U” is "back" every time they win a single game -- or absurd as the aforementioned dude who compared Jacksonville to the GOP winning Boston– or dumb as those trying to draw DeSantis/Trump/Biden conclusions.  

Every campaign is unique – they are their own moments, driven by the circumstances and the people in them. Donna Deegan was uniquely the right candidate for the right moment running the right kind of race in a community that has been getting riper for Democrats, and that is the only conclusion anyone needs to make. While winning is important for my side -- important for morale, important for momentum,  Deegan doesn't need national comparisons to make her win historic -- it stands on its own. Period, full stop

6.     Community Leaders should run for office.

We can all disagree on ideology and partisanship, but Jacksonville was a good race between two people who have spent a lot of time working in their community.  My first boss, Doug Wiles from St. Augustine, was once described as someone who had run for office their whole life, just never knew it.  Too many community leaders shy away from running, and given the nature of politics, it is understandable.  I hope Deegan’s win demonstrates to people like her – in both parties – that there is a path, and that public service is a noble calling.

7.      Trevor Lawrence is Him.

You didn’t really think you’d get through a blog about Jacksonville without a Jaguars section, did you?

Trevor finished the season last year showing the promise that he’s had from Day 1 – leading the team to three of its biggest comebacks in history, including the historic 27-point comeback in the Wild Card round.    In fact, my phone got more texts that night from friends than I’ve ever gotten in a single political campaign.   I think we win 11-12 games this year, and America, you haven’t seen anything more insufferable than Jaguars fans will be when he gets us a ring.

In the end, Deegan’s win was hers, and hers alone – a great candidate who ran a smart race, at the right time.  After all, politics is all about timing and opportunity.  

Just like it is for the Jaguars.  This is right time – with the right set of opportunities.  

And with that, I close with the prayer for all who love Jacksonville -- Republican and Democrats alike – may Deegan’s first term not only be truly uniting, may it also be the moment that Trevor gets us that long-awaited first ring. 

And that moment when all of America will stand on their porches and yell in unison:  DUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUVAL.  

It will be a glorious night, one that will definitely end at Waffle House. 

But until then, Congratulations Donna.  I know you will do well.  (And Congrats to my 08 colleague Pat McCollough on a race well managed!)

 

Open Letter to the FDP State Executive Committee

Dear Florida Democratic Party Executive Committee: 

It is time to elect a new Florida Democratic Party Chair!!!

Some of you may know me, many of you don't.  Back in the day - and on again and off again for 20+ years, I've been a hack who worked on Democratic campaigns in Florida.  

You have the job of electing a new state party chair, and I wanted to offer some perspective from someone who has seen the good, the bad, and more often that not, the ugly.  I don't envy your job, but I encourage you to be throughtful and deliberate - even if it requires taking extra time. 

The party has been through more rebuilding exercises in the last decade than the Jacksonville Jaguars.  And while I have never been asked to participate in these exercises, I offered some thoughts arond each.   If you are curious about my previous thoughts, you can read them here:  2021, 2019, 2017, 2015.  I can assure you, they are basically the same as this piece.

For the purposes of this election, it isn't really worth spending a lot of time on how we got here.  I’ve got a more thorough piece I am working on about how we got here.   I wish I could tell you this train wreck hasn't been a long time coming, but that would be a lie.  More on that whenever I get the stomach to finish the other piece.

Before before I get to the question at hand -- the next FDP Chair, I think there are two things that are critical to set the table.

1.  The job is utterly thankless and impossible.  Period.  Full Stop.  

There is nothing glamorous about the job, unless your idea of fun is endless nights at Hampton Inns and Marriott Courtyards staring out the window at parking lots and air conditioning handlers, spending your days not getting your phone calls returned by donors, talking to reporters who want to know why you haven’t fixed everything in 3 weeks, all while being roasted on twitter and elsewhere for being bad at your job by people who have never won in an actual competitive partisan election.  And here’s the fun part: What does success look like?  Even the cycle where I set the - sadly the still standing - record for largest net gain in the State House, I had more critics than fans.  As Chair, you will wake up every morning, run headfirst into a brick wall without a helmet, and repeat daily.  Someone has to do it -- someone really good, but needs to having realistic expectations is going to be critical to success.

2.  The current system is built in a way that works against the party's success. 

I believe, as I will lay out in another piece, that the seeds of the party’s current state were laid in the spring of 2010, when there was a conscious effort and decision – not by anyone at the party – to outsource basic party functions to outside C3 and C4 groups.  The goal of building long term outside infrastructure wasn’t a bad one on its face – but rather than being a value-add proposition, like Americans for Prosperity is for the GOP, it ended up being a choice for donors on whether to support the FDP or other groups, and for a variety of reasons, the other won the day.   As a result, outside of individual candidates – and in this case, mostly Presidential efforts standing up operations for six months every four years, the party has never had the resources to do the work it needs to do in a consistent and sustained basis.  Honestly, I don’t know if there is the ability to get some of those donors back into the tent (or find new ones).   Oh, and one more thing – raising money to the party is brutal without a major statewide figure committed to it.  I was there in 2005 and it sucked.  

Ok – so onto the actual job.

In my view, the Florida Democratic Party has one job, and only one job:  Win Elections.  

That’s it.  That is the only job.  Winning elections. 

The Chair of the Florida Democratic Party also only has one job:  Provide the resources and direction to meet that mission.  Again, that is the only job.   

Everything else, to be quite frank, is both secondary and should be agnostic to that.  I don't care if they can give an inspiring speech, or even if they are afraid to talk in public.  Nor do I care how clever their tweets are, or how much they can "own" the other side.  I care if they can win -- and by win, I mean win an election with a partisan letter next to their name in a seat the other side can win.  I encourage you to care about nothing else either. 

One of the things I genuinely respect about my Republican hack (hack, if you are unfamiliar, is an honorific of respect given by one's political peers to good political operatives) friends:  They really don’t care.  They just want to win.  They figure winning solves problems, and they are right.  You know what encourages discipline?  What motivates working hard?  Winning.  And winning is fun. 

Besides Florida Republicans, you know who is having fun right now?  Jacksonville Jaguars fans.  Why?  We are winning.  You know who isn’t?  Both Florida Democrats and Tennessee Titans fans.  The end of the Titans season was like the Florida Democratic Party the last 3 cycles.   At least I can revel in the Titans failure.

But I digress.  Kinda.

Good candidates don’t all look alike.  They don’t hold all the same views, and some might even hold views that other Democrats disagree with.   But in the end, the only litmus test is “can they win” – and not in the aspirational, maybe lightning strikes in a bottle/wow they gave a great speech someone should give them money/we should help them because they decided to run kind of way/wow he-she insprired me with that cool video in a Trump +23 district, but in a do they have something that gives them appeal, and the network to raise money to communicate that appeal.   Basically, if you use the word “but” in a sentence to describe a candidate, they probably aren’t going to win.  That is just real talk. 

The Party’s job is to help find these people, and make sure the foundation is there for those candidates, and in this case, that is mainly to register voters, then turn those voters out.   If the next Chair of the FDP only did one thing – register voters, then turn those voters out – at an even marginally successful rate, we should give that person a 10-year contract.  (And for God’s sake, we should not care how they vote – by mail, early, or on Election Day.  Let’s stop spending money to get people who are going to vote to vote in the way we prefer them to vote…It does not matter, Schale screams into the abyss).  

In my view, Karen Thurman was the perfect Party Chair for the era that I worked there (2005 to early 2009) – a moment not dissimilar to this one, except we took over a party in legitimate worse shape than this one.  We inherited so much debt that we couldn't even get a credit card.

She had won tough partisan elections herself - elections against Republicans, so she knew that it took.   She didn’t have any further political ambitions, this wasn’t the biggest title she had earned in her life, and she sure as hell didn’t need the job.  She had a rolodex to raise money, had enough of the trust of donors to take her calls, and she understood that limited resources should be deployed in smart ways to win.  I remember once having a conversation about a candidate who had some positions well to the right of the current party, and her answer was “Steve, honestly, who gives a shit – Can they win, and will they vote for the Democratic Leader?”   The answers were yes, and we got that person across the line.  As the kids might say, she DGAF about anything, other than winning.  If I am voting for Chair (and I am not), I am looking for another Karen Thurman. 

Furthermore, as a voter for the next Chair, I encourage you to ask every candidate three basic questions: 

1.  Can you raise money?  If their answer is “I have a plan to get small donors” or some other whimsical Field of Dreams kind of answer, that means no donor is going to take their call and you shouldn't vote for them.   All the things that everyone wants the party to do will cost money - a lot of money.  If the candidate for Chair you are talking to doesn't get that, well, we will just be having this conversation again in 2 years. 

2. What is your plan to register voters?  Like the Jaguars record over the last few decades, the Dems win-loss record on voter registration is obviously bad to anyone who has looked at them.  There is no way to spin it, no sugar-coating.  This isn't all the Party's fault - much of this work has been out-sourced to the C3 and C4 tables -- but you need to drive the policy to take it back.  So ask the candidates what their plan is.   And if they tell you they have some cool "texting outreach" or other plan that isn't putting actual people on the ground talking to actual voters, you should find another candidate.  And as the last few cycles proved, this isn't work that is effectively done virtually. 

3. What is your plan to recruit candidates to build a larger – and broader (in every sense) bench?

I know I said 3, but I am going to add a 4^th

4. The Party need to rebuild real volunteer capacity.   We are leaning way too much on paid canvassers.  Paid canvassing is a band-aid, it isn’t a plan.  Volunteers are committed, they believe in the cause, and will be warriors for it.  

And in my opinion, that’s all any state executive committee should care about.   There are a million things the Party could do – many of which it should do – but the fastest way to do a lousy job is to try to do too much.  If I am voting, I want someone laser focused on those narrow functions, because doing these basic, core party functions even moderately well will still be a herculean task. 

I am sure you have other ideas, and I'll be honest, most of you are right.   

“But Steve, we need a better message” – you know who are good messengers – more winning candidates. 

“People don’t know what we stand for” – you are right, because the Party is broke.

“We need better outreach” – 100%, but you know what is great outreach: registering voters.

“We need to do more in X community” – sure you are right, and you know what, we've basically done a lousy job in every community, so find me a Chair who can raise money. 

“We don’t do enough XXX” – Yup, you are right.

“I am a Titans fan and I have some ideas” - BLOCKED.  See, I said most of you were right.  Not all of you.

But the problem is the next Chair can't do all the things that everyone thinks it should to do.  They won't have the resources. They have to be laser focused on doing a few of them well, controlling the things that person can actually control.

Right after I took my party job in 2005, I sat down with fellow Florida Man Chuck Todd, who was then at Hotline.  He said to me “people say there isn’t enough outside the box thinking” among Florida Democrats, to which I responded “Chuck, we don't have a box -- the problem is we need to build the box before we can think outside of it”

We built the box when I was there.  We built a good voter file, and recruited good candidates (and gave the voter file to candidates for free).  We registered voters, ran a narrowly targeted turnout operation, and built a real registration advantage.  We put in places the things you needed to take advantage of political winds.  And over the next decade, that box was been smashed into pieces, grinded up in a woodchipper, and shot into the next stratosphere.  

So, the next Chair gets to start over, building a new box. 

And the best person for the job, quite honestly, just like Karen Thurman in 2005, probably has not raised their hand, and will need to be talked into it. 

I say this in every piece like this – there is no silver bullet.  There is no "one thing" and anyone who tells you they, and they alone, have the key to our success should be run out of the room.  No one person, one candidate, or one thing has created this shibacle, and no one person is going to fix it.  The road back will be a slog, and the likelihood is whoever takes the job, if they do it right, will be setting the table for someone else’s success.  That is the nature of the upcoming task.  It needs someone with the relationships and the temperament to see it through.  It is hard work, and someone needs to do it -- but we did do it after 2004.  

Can we do it again?   Ask me after the Jaguars win the Super Bowl. 

Good luck to you.  And just like the Jaguars hiring Doug Peterson after a decade or more of futility, taking the time to get this one right isn't just important - it is vital to the getting the institution back on track. 

Sincerely,

Steve Schale, Florida's resident has-been/grizzled veteran hack 

My Stepdad Joe

I needed a few more merit badges to finish my Eagle Scout -- and time was running out.   I was now well into high school, and well, all of the high school things were starting to get in the way of finishing this goal of my youth.  Eagle Project was finished -- this was all that was left, and I had to get it done. 

One of those last remaining bagdes was camping. 

Now I had camped a lot, but the badge requirements called for something specific:  a night of primative camping, which basically meant hiking somewhere, spending the night, and hiking back out -- outside of your typical Boy Scout group environment.

To complete this critical step, my fairly newly minted stepfather Joe and I were going to spend the night on land in North Carolina he and his brother had just bought.   My Mom would drop us off -- we'd hike the mile and a half to this spring (which at one point, had definitely been the source for some local hooch manufacturing), spend the night, and hike back out in the morning, meeting her at the agreed upon time.

This would have been 1988 (maybe 1989), before mobile phones were a thing (Joe was an early "car phone" adopter, but that was pointless in the woods) - or for that matter, the internet for reliable weather service.   If memory served me right, we embarked knowing there was a chance of rain - but once we were dropped off, that was it --- until we returned to the same spot the next day.   It was definitely a little ominous when we got out of the van, but I needed the merit badge, so off we went - my mother - her intuition in full alert mode.

As we hiked in, the weather turned ugly pretty quickly.   We could hike back and see if she had come back, but that wasn't likely -- and I needed that badge.  We kept going, and got to the spring, and in a decent rain, we set up the tent, and somehow got a fire started.  But the rain steadily got harder, eventually turning into an all out torrent of rain.   Concerned about losing our fire -- and basically our ability to cook/eat for 24 hours, Joe and I huddled over our sputtering  little fire, holding a small frying pan over it to keep the coals and some wood dry.  

Flash. Boom. Almost no interval between the two.

Wow, that was close, we both thought, saying nothing to the other, as the storm we were in crashed into a full fledged mountain thunderstorm.   There was no calling Mom to pick us up -- we were just riding it out. 

Bright light followed by an immediate Crash. 

Did he feel that -- as I looked down at the hairs on my arm, having just experienced something akin to the shock you might get from touching an exposed wire on a lamp.   Again, neither of us said anything, protecting our meager fire.

Then it hit -- I have no idea how close - but basically right on us.  I remember the whole world turning white -- then I wasn't right next to the fire anymore.  It had blown us back.  There was no question what had just happened.  

There is no guidebook for being a stepfather, and certainly the playbook didn't call for voluntarily camping in a severe mountain thunderstorm and getting struck by lightning -- but Joe did it.   Saying yes -- being there - being present was - and is, his super power. 

Joe entered his "ready made family" when I was a teenager.  Like most kids at that age, I definitely had my moments -- moments exacerbated by the fact I never completely felt comfortable in Florida as a kind after we moved from Illinois, the anxiety that came from my seizure condition, followed by my parent's divorce.   That age is hard for everyone, but there was definitely a lot going on in my young world.  There is no guidebook for being a teenage stepkid either, and I know I wasn't always fair or the easiest one.  But that never seemed to matter.  Joe always talked of winning the lottery with his new family, and I know he meant it.

Beyond being my stepfather, Joe is one of the most interesting people I've ever known.  The last of four kids, Joe grew up in a small town which would today be suburban Atlanta, went to Clemson and got a degree he never used, then ended up in the Army, managing an armored cavarly unit that was always on call, but never got deployed, to Korea.

He's a man very much impacted by growing up during World War II, most notably, driven by the principles of community and self-sacrifice for larger good.  His father was a town leader, who because of his status was eligible to receive some special dispositions from the rations of the era, but said no.   That lesson of both leading -- and being part of the community has definitely defined Joe's life.  In the times when i was a kid, I can't remember a time when he said no when his community asked -- even once running for office (and winning -- he had an OK strategist helping) a seat on a relatively obscure local taxing authority board that had lost its way and needed some business leadership.  He didn't run becauee he had the ambition for the title, but because some community fathers asked him to.  No one else would raise their hand, so he did.

I often describe him as a serial entrepreneur.  He was a stock broker in his post-Army days - retired from that.  Sold boats with his brother in Hawaii - retired from that.  Built a marina in St. Augustine - and a lake/housing community in Western North Carolina, finally retiring from all that just in the last few years.  In my entire time of knowing Joe, he's always in the process of building something -- and even today, closer to 90 than 80 -- he's still has projects under way.  

He's sailed across the Pacific, lived for a stint in both New York City and Hong Kong, stepped foot on virtually every continent, chaired every community board/church committee/fundraising drive you could ever imagine, and read enough books to fill an actual library.  He is also can tell you every decent to semi-decent BBQ restaurant within a few miles of the interstate between Jacksonville and Asheville.  You wouldn't take him on first blush as an adventurous guy, but at the same time, he was always up for it -- from rafting the Grand Canyon, to canoeing the Missouri River.  I guarantee you there aren't many - frankly if any kids from his time in his small town who could match the life he's lived.

And for 35+ years, he's also been my stepdad. 

When I think about the things I try to be as an adult, virtually every single import life lesson that I lean on today I can draw back to Joe.   When i was young, he'd preach learning to write -- 'Steve, if you can write, you will always have value' he'd say.  Or don't be afraid to go it alone -- he'd preach, encouraging us to find our own paths, even if those paths weren't the most well worn, or easily traveled.  He still believes in the age old concept of your word as your honor, and I have never seen him more troubled than when his word was called into question.  

His life wisdom was and is often just basic common sense as seen through the lens of just every day decency. One of the most impactful things I remember him saying -  "never say no to being a groomsman, a pall bearer, or a godparent," advice that means so much more than that.  He always seemed to do the little things, for example, I also remember him going to every funeral he could, because it was just the right thing to do. 

Our family was - and is - his Home Team, and to him, that concept wasn't meant to be some cute Hallmark slogan, or some modern-day well curated instagram image of the perfect family.  Far from that.  To Joe, that concept was more basic - we all had hopes and dreams, and the job of the rest of us was to support the other.  It meant picking up the slack, for example, when my Mom went back to work -- and at the same time, back to school to earn her Masters, or when one of us kids was in an activity when we were gone a lot.  And they led by example -- I don't remember a time when either Mom or Joe bought a new car until long after we were all out of college. 

He put me to work at a fairly young age, and I watched him at this place he'd built, where no job was too small for him.  He'd pump fuel, and clean toilets.  He'd pick up garbage, or help someone carry their supplies.  He'd send everyone home from work to be with their families, and wait for that last boat to come in late at night. He'd open doors, and say kind things to everyone he passed-- even to those who didn't always say kind things to him.  The customer is always right, he'd preach -- always right, even when they aren't, because without customers, we don't have a business. 

He also taught me by the jobs he gave me -- and the people he put me around. The life lessons from working on the docks, cleaning out waste oil facilities, working on a road crew, a home building crew, and even digging ditches in the dead of Florida summer, have stuck with me for a lifetime.  Out there, not only did I have to prove myself as more than just the owner's scrawny kid with a summer job -- I had to work harder, listen more, often take on the shittiest of jobs, and set aside my own privilege if I wanted to earn the respect of the guys I was out there sweating with -- but I had to learn to respect and trust them, even if our places in life were quite different.  I also realized, as was clearly the goal of these hard-earned lessons:  i needed to get my own self together, and focus on school.  

Innate basic decency is definitely the quality i admire the most. For Joe, it is never the wrong time to choose kindness -- never the wrong time to treat everyone around you with dignity -- never the wrong time to be patient, or show gratitude. From the wealthiest person who owned a boat in the marina, to Willie, the man who picked up the garbage, he treated everyone as they treated him -- if you are decent and kind -- your place in life didn't matter - you'd have a friend in Joe Taylor.   He has no place for rudeness and entitlement, no room for privilege, and no patience for those who wont pull their own weight.  

Along the same lines, I've learned so much watching him deal with difficult situations, seeing how he always focued first on solving the problem, and worrying about everything else later.   For example, when my own father suffered a stroke and became no longer competent to manage his own affairs, Joe stepped in and took care of them, and helped us figure out a workable solution. And despite the fact there are people for whom he could have an ill-word, he has shown his famly that grace is always the better route.  He would have been a hell of a diplomat had he chosen a different course in life. 

I am blessed that today, his 88th birthday, I still have Joe in my life -- finally retired, but active as always.   From those early days of getting struck by lightning with me, to the sacrifices he made to make sure my sisters and i had the best educational opportunities, to jumping into every hobby/career decision I've ever made (including joining my mother as defacto office managers of their local Florida Obama Office in 2008) to the "hey joe, how do i do this" calls I still make to him.  God knows there are plenty of places and times i've fallen short of his example, and I am not nearly as organized or as personally courageous as he is, but nonetheless, I am who I am because he's been in my life.   He says he won the lottery, but his three stepkids all know the truth, we were the ones who did. 

Oh, and despite getting struck by lighting, we never lost the fire on that rainy afternoon.  

Happy Birthday Joe.  

Finding Inspiration

Finding Inspiration and Courage in the Developing World

When traveling, usually against my better judgment, I try the local hooch. In Infanta — a small town in the Philippine province of Quezon — that thirst quencher is lambanog. And on a Saturday night in the rain in August, my new friends and I raised a glass of it to my new goddaughter Lexi, while a local karaoke band belted out songs like Abba’s “Dancing Queen.”

It was in a word, perfect.

The road to Infanta Quezon is long - literally and figuratively.  Getting there, a fishing town on the pacific side of the main island of the Philippines, requires a 4–5-hour drive from the capital city, navigating both Manila’s gridlock of humanity, as well a steep mountain range.    

While Manila is booming and modern, Infanta is rural and simple.  Fishing and agriculture dominate the local economy, both practiced at a scale that’s advanced very little over the years.  Nowhere is this clearer than the Infanta Fishing Port, where fish is sold in plastic buckets, and where the entire port celebrates the return of a successful catch.

I’d come to celebrate Lexi’s christening.  Lexi is the 2-year-old daughter of Lord Arnel “LA” Ruanto, the town’s Vice Mayor, and my mentee through the Young Southeast Asian Leaders Initiative.

Infanta isn’t a place frequented by guys like me, and LA rolled out the red carpet. Banners announcing my visit (and that of fellow ACYPL’er Numan Afifi of Malaysia) dotted street corners.  The attention is weird, but this day wasn’t about me:  I was there because my visit, on many levels, was important to LA.

But truthfully, I was also there for me.  Spending time around young leaders in the developing world is inspiring.  The word courage gets tossed around a lot in America, and 99% of the time the descriptor is total bullshit.  You want courage?  My friend on this trip, Numan Afifi is an openly gay man fighting for human rights in Malaysia, where the very act of being himself is illegal.  Or LA, who works to disrupt the political system in a country known for political violence.  That’s courage.  Selfishly, helping and spending time around leaders like them renews my own purpose.

I dreamed of being a diplomat when I was younger, and while that dream has passed, these trips are my chance to do what I love:  testify to the decency of our nation, and the values underpinning it.  I truly believe on her best day, America is both a source of goodness in the world, and an inspiration for those striving in to improve their own country.  I love trying to be an example of both in conversations with young people around the world, as well as shine a small light on their work.

The challenges in The Philippines are overwhelming, yet it’s home to a truly warm, joyful, and resilient people.  Our countries have real shared history - a history that plays out in how Americans are welcomed there.  And on that Saturday night, with the lambanog flowing and everyone saying how lucky the town was for my visit, I stood there knowing the real truth: I’m the one who received the gift. 

This was the third out of three pieces I wrote about my August 2022 trip to The Philippines.  If you are interested, here are the other two:

The Queen Margarette:http://steveschale.squarespace.com/blog/2022/9/12/the-queen-margarette.html

Golf in The Philippines -- and Meeting Ruthie:  http://steveschale.squarespace.com/blog/2022/9/5/golf-in-the-philippines-and-meeting-ruthie.html

This piece appeared in the fall edition of Influence Magazine.  You can read it in its original form here:  https://issuu.com/influenceflorida/docs/influence_fall22/65

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26 Things I Know To Be True About Politics (and one more...)

This time of year, I usually write updates on the cycle – and this year, I’ve decided not to. 

First, the cycle in Florida isn’t that interesting, and there isn't a ton of mystery to the outcome, so there isn't much use to it.  Trust me, I have opinions, and I am sure I will write about them after next Tuesday. Secondly, in past cycles, either the Florida Democratic Party or a campaign I was helping would give me access to a good voter file where I could provide context to raw early voting numbers, but alas, I haven’t spoken to anyone at the FDP in nearly 2 years, so I don’t have access to a good voter file.  

That being said, this time of year, I spend a fair amount of time guest lecturing in schools about the career of politics, which inevitably leads to naval gazing about the trajectory of my own career – a trajectory whose line looks more like a Rorschach Test more than a well-conceived plan.  I've seen a lot of politics, from my stepfather's race to local Airport Authority, countless state legislative races, three winning Presidential races, a few failed Governor's races, and even a colorful and successful GOP state legislative primary in 2020 (#TeamMichelle).  And in those years, some due to acquired skill, much due to the old blind squirrel theory, I've learned a lot.

Plus, yet again, the Jaguars suck, meaning I have a lot of extra time on my hands - and since I am thinking of finally writing the book I've been toying with for more than a decade, I've decided to start writing a few things down. 

So with that, in honor of surviving 26 years n this shibacle of a career, here are 26 things I’ve learned along the way to be true about the game…

1.  Politics isn’t rocket science.  Trust me, if it was, I sure as Hell wouldn’t be doing it - nor would anyone else in politics.  A lot of people make a lot of money making it a lot more complicated than it is.  The Obama Rule “Don’t do stupid shit” applies to the art of politics, or maybe better yet, the Dwight Schrute rule: “Whenever I'm about to do something, I think 'Would an idiot do that?  And if they would, I do not do that thing.”  Use your head, don't do dumb shit, and to quote my friend, and rock star hack Lis Smith, "just be normal.". (I should note, this rule would be good for the Jacksonville Jaguars to follow)

2.  What goes up, will go down – and there is a decent chance what is down, could very well rise up again.  This includes both issues and people in politics.   Nothing is permanent in life or in politics.  I’ve been both ends of the ladder and all the rungs in the middle more than once.  The question isn’t if you are going to get knocked down – it is when, and how will you respond.  To quote the great boxer, Rocky Balboa: "You, me, or nobody is gonna hit as hard as life - but it ain't how hard ya hit - its about how hard you can get hit and keep moving forward...that's how winning is done."

3. The only thing that matters in elections is winning.  Period.  End of story.  Winners write laws, losers go home.  Good hacks set their own pride, opinions, ideology, and ambitions aside and ask one fundamental question every day:  Will this decision help me get to 50%+1?  You might be steadfast in your opinion being right, but guess what matters to your opinon if less than 50% of voters agree?    There are no participation trophies, no moral victories, no value in being ‘right,’ and no winning in spite of losing -- winning is the only thing that matters in elections.  Don’t complain about your losses – learn from them.

4. The Median Voter Theory is generally undefeated, and should be the ruling doctrine of not only how you run a campaign, but if you want to get re-elected, how you vote/govern in office. Everyone’s median voter is different, but the theory still holds up.  The corollary to this:  If you don’t know how or why you won, you are probably doomed to make terrible mistakes as it relates to your own political fortunes.  I remember a guy who got elected because he was just in the right place in the right year, but despite a lot of advising to the contrary, convinced himself he'd built a new mousetrap.  Guess what happened in his re-election...

5. Voters are consumers.  Good businesses listen to their consumers, build a product that meets the need of the consumer.  Build a shitty product that doesn’t meet the need of your customers, and you probably won’t do to well.   Same goes for candidates and electeds.  There is a reason Oldsmobile went out of business, and it is often the same reason candidates lose. 

6. Understand the weather -- shooting at hurricanes won't change anything (we do that here in Florida).  In most campaigns, especially in general elections -- and especially down the ballot, a large part of the equation is baked into the cake.  Good campaigns focus on what they can control –  bad ones complain about the things they can’t – or won’t change.   Prepare to play well in whatever the weather brings.  

7.  You aren't as smart (or as dumb) as it seems.  Per rule 5, bad campaigns do win, and sometimes the better run campaign loses.  Sometimes you lose and it doesn’t matter what you did, and sometimes you win just because you were on the ballot in the right year.  That is just the rub of the game.  At the same time, just because you win, doesn’t mean you are as smart as you think you are.   The minute you think you have “the secret,” political karma is going to kick your ass.  As my Republican hack buddy Kevin Sweeny says: “The secret is there is no secret.” 

8. You can’t be good at politics unless, at some level, you understand policy – and you can’t be good at policy if you don’t understand politics.  Full stop.  Early in your career, take the time to do both.  If you tell me “Schale, I am just a policy guy” or “I only do the politics,” I am going to hire someone else. 

9. Be good at something.  I’ve had an admittedly weird career where I’ve managed or been a senior advisor to nearly every political thing I’ve done since I was 21 years old.  But I also know what I am good at:  figuring out the math of winning and message/communications.  That is what I really bring to a campaign.  Have a skill you can always fall back on.  In the same breath, you aren't good at everything - if you are in a position to hire, hire confidently to your weaknesses -- too many people hire validators instead of hiring leaders that fill their own gaps. 

10. Competitive Primaries suck.  If you get joy out of knifing your own friends and family, you will like primaries.  I don’t.  

11. If you work in election politics, have operative friends in the other party.  As Bourdain said, you learn a lot about someone by sharing a meal, and getting to know your political opponents is not only good for humanity and America, it will force you to challenge your own thinking, and help you understand how they think.  I’ll also say on this point, when I have been at my lowest moments – those times where I thought I had finally run out of political lives, it was usually my friends in the other party who called me first to let me know they had my back. 

12. You have to take a shot to make a shot.  What did Jordan say about missing 9,000 shots, and failing 26 times when the game was on the line and the ball was in his hands?   I am lucky that I’ve never been unemployed in my career, but for the first 12-14 years of mine, I bet on myself cycle after cycle, often unsure how I’d pay the bills if the shot didn’t go down.   Even at 48, even though my hack days are probably behind me, trust me, I still want on the court.  I am sure i will always want to be on the court. Good players want the ball.  (FYI, This doesn't mean heave it from half court because you want to be Twitter famous)

13. In politics, just because you have something to say doesn’t mean anyone will or even has to listen.  As you earn political capital, you earn the right to be heard.   There are no points for being loud.  The corollary to this:  when you do reach that point, you have a choice: you can be a validator, or you can be not afraid to speak truth in the room when it matters.  It is a disservice to not be the latter. 

14. I hate the personality politics of politics, but it is there.   As you grow in your career, some of your early champions will start to see you as the threat – and later, some who you helped along the way will come to see you as the target.  It is shitty, but it is what it is.  The politics of politics blows.  You have to have a short memory.  

15. There is some truth to the idea that if you want a friend in politics, you should get a dog.  My sanity comes from having friends who have nothing to do with politics.  At same time, understand the nature of political friendships.  I have very real friends – people who are family to me – who I will go to war with.   If you can’t get your head around this, you shouldn’t be in politics.

16. If you are looking for work-life balance, go find something else to do.  I remember going to Washington about a decade ago to get some advice from my dear Obamaland friend Jon Carson, and I asked him how he managed work-life balance having multiple kids, a wife with a big job, and his own in the White House. He said "I don't understand the term."  Fair or unfair, particularly early in your career, someone will be willing to out-hustle you.   If you are new to the game, you will go a lot farther if you don’t worry about titles or the next job.  Be a special teams player - do all the little things well.  If you are a hard worker, smart, and eager to learn, you’ll end up with real responsibility on a campaign very quickly.   More on this later. 

17. Electeds are motivated by all kinds of things– many of which are more altruistic than the average voter believes.   But the one thing that unites nearly every elected official is the fear of losing.  If you don’t understand what motivates a public official, you will never actually succeed at making change.  

18. The vast majority of people in politics will choose self-interest over loyalty – even personal loyalty.  That’s just the basic rule of the game.  It is not personal.  

19. Some of my legitimate best friends in life are in the press – but the media is not there to be your friend.  You have a job and they have a job.  Understand these boundaries.  Corollary to this:  it is on you, not on them, to determine whether you are on the record, on background, or off the record.  Don’t get mad at them for printing something you said or texted if it wasn’t cleared and agreed upon that you weren't on the record.  And no "but we had a drink in our hands" isn't an excuse. 

20. You can make money in politics, but don’t get be motivated to get into politics to make money.   If your sole goal is to make money, do something else.  If you getting into politics for any other reason than you believe you can change the world, please stay out.  Seriously.  Furthermore, if you are in politics and find yourself getting cynical, take stock and decide if it is time to do something different.  Life is too short. 

21. The peeling of the onion.  My friend Rich Davis, a Democratic television ad maker, once described a campaign as the process of peeling the layers of an onion back to its core.  If you aren’t comfortable with this process, and what happens when you when people see your core - or if you arent comfortable as your own authentic self (or lack the self-awareness to know your own authentic self), you probably shouldn't run.   

22. Force yourself to change perspectives. People who are good at the game can see political questions from all the angles, which you can only learn to do by getting outside your comfort zone.  I have worked on Republican races.  I have worked on races in majority-minority races.  I have given advice to friends running in foreign countries.   These things all help you use new and different parts of your brain, as well as see issues from someone else’s shoes. 

23. Having a sponsor is more important than having mentors.   When President Obama won, I assumed I might have some cool DC opportunities – then my friend Dan Gelber said “hey Schale, who is your Rabbi” – meaning essentially, who is your sponsor.  I realized I had a lot of friends, but I didn’t have a sponsor.   At same time, if you are blessed to be in a spot to do so, be a sponsor.  In that same Obama experience, while I realized I couldn’t really help myself in a way I wanted, I figured out through my network of relationships, I could be a sponsor to help others get a foot in the door.  We built a little Florida mafia in DC, something I remain immensely proud of to this day. 

24. Titles are cheap and power the power that comes from them is transitory.  Your job and title will go away, but being respected and having influence will endure.  Want people to listen to you – then find a way to lead.   Sometimes this means not being afraid to make your own way.   There is a real herd mentality in politics, but as they say, when you are in the herd, the view never changes.  In the herd there is safety, but out front, there is influence.   To quote the noted poet Jerome "Jerry" Garica, "there is a road, no simple highway...the path is for your steps alone." 

25. For those looking to get in, the entry to politics often isn’t a meritocracy -- however, there is a big but.  You may have to kick down doors while the kid of some donor gets a plum job right out of school, however, politics does become more of a meritocracy over time – if you win elections, get shit done for clients, and prove your worth, you will make it.  Don’t worry about the donor’s kid – just go out work them and/or beat them.  Also - you don't need a Masters Degree to work in politics -- you just need brains and hustle. 

26.  Life ain't fair and politics certainly isn’t fair.   I have been a Democrat in Florida my whole career with Republicans being in charge, meaning by nature, my friends on the other side will always have more money, more options, and a better support system.   When you work in the game, your own career goals are often up to the voters (and trust me, the voters have killed mine a time or two!) That’s ok.  No one owes you anything – you either figure out how to make it work, or you do something else. 

And one more… The Golden Rule also applies to politics, or at least it should.  While politics can be exhilarating, it is also rough, exhausting, hard on life and families, not great for mental health, and can be personally gutting (and complete shit for your golf game – trust me).  But you don’t have to give in to your worst instincts to make it.  In fact, over time, the game does spit out most of the people who choose to ignore their better angels. 

Even in politics, it is best to heed the council of Dr. King – it is truly always the right time to do the right thing.